


Quest

by ceshaughnessy



Category: lotr - Fandom
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-04-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 01:43:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6450364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceshaughnessy/pseuds/ceshaughnessy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Fellowship has not travelled together for long but already it is apparent that the One Ring’s influence on Frodo Baggins is growing. As he struggles to keep his increasingly dark thoughts at bay, his companions are finding they also are subject to a subtle increase in moodiness. Frodo has taken to sleepwalking, Pippin, to night wandering and secrecy. Although Legolas has discovered part of Pippin’s secret, he allows himself to believe Pippin’s reassurances, and agrees to keep what he knows to himself for the time being. </p><p>Before long, a blizzard traps the Fellowship in a cave where their problems escalate, and suspicions grow difficult to ignore. . .</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. She Waits

**Author's Note:**

> A huge "Thank you" to my awesome Beta, Dreamflower. She has helped me in more ways than I can ever repay her for, and I can always rely on her to know how to resolve any rough spots in a story. She is a fountain of wealth in her endless ideas and enthusiasm for LOTR Fanfic! And a very special "thanks" to Pearl Took for her input and ever-present help with crucial plot twists and tireless re-reading!! 
> 
> This story is dedicated to Lily Baggins with much love and many hugs for her continued support! She's been there since the very beginning of my fanfic journey.
> 
> This story is a WIP.

Prologue  
“She Waits”

TA 1975  
Mid Third Age  
The Ice bay of Forochel

 

The King smiled wearily as his men gathered round, all of them talking at once, the stark relief apparent on their faces. The Elven vessel Círdan had sent to rescue them had arrived during the night; unable to reach the shore, the vessel hovered just outside the ice bay, its lanterns twinkling with an inviting golden light that beckoned to the stranded travellers. A huge sheet of ice stretched its long arm before them, creating a chill barrier that separated them from the ship. It was a relatively short distance, yet at the moment it might as well have been miles long.

Arvedui spoke quietly to the Chieftain of the Lossoth. “Jago, at long last our deliverance is at hand.”

The Chieftain watched the king, studying his worn features before replying.

“Yet looks may be deceiving. All is not as it seems. In my heart I feel a chill that has naught to do with the wind blowing across the ice today.”

“But we must go now. The ship awaits us and her crew will be eager to move on. Will your men aid us with their sledges? We have little to carry, but we nevertheless require help in moving the larger of our belongings.” Arvedui gestured at the palantíri resting just inside the entrance to the snow-hut he and his men had called home for all these months.

Not for the first time, Jago regarded the strange dark orbs with suspicion. He spoke urgently to the king, “Do not mount on this sea-monster! If they have them, let the seamen bring us food and other things that we need, and you may stay here till the Witch-King goes home. For in summer his power wanes; but now his breath is deadly, and his cold arm is long.” *

The other Lossoth shared murmurs of assent, shifting restlessly, casting wary glances at the ship. Their mutterings about the scent of danger on the wind and the threat of a storm approaching reached the King’s ears. Arvedui glanced at his men before turning back to the leader of the Snowmen.

“We must beg your assistance one more time, my friend. Will you not help us reach our ship?”

Jago shook his head in defeat. “I fear you will have cause to regret your decision.” Without further words he waved his arm at his kinsmen, beckoning them to ready their sledges for the trip across the ice.

The king’s men loaded their meagre belongings and the palantíri upon the ice sleds. Before they parted, the king turned once more to his benefactor. Slipping the ring from his finger he pressed it into the chieftain’s palm. 

“I thank you for all you and yours have done to aid us. This is a thing of worth beyond your reckoning. For its ancientry alone. It has no power, save the esteem in which those hold it who love my house. It will not help you, but if you are in need, my kin will ransom it with great store of all that you desire.” *

 

Yet the counsel of the Lossoth was good, by chance or by foresight; for the ship had not reached the open sea when a great storm of wind arose, and came with blinding snow out of the North; and it drove the ship back upon the ice and piled ice up against it. Even the mariners of Círdan were helpless, and in the night the ice crushed the hull, and the ship foundered. So perished Arvedui Last-king, and with him the palantiri were buried in the sea. It was long afterwards that news of the shipwreck of Forochel was learned from the Snowmen. *

***

Ages pass. The lands shift. Rifts open and the waters of the seas can be found far from where the ocean still laps upon the shores of that long ago tragedy. Deep within the earth danger lingers, keeping silent vigil. The menace sleeps; a dream of death and destruction plays on the fringes of awareness. Little by little the cavern transforms into a maze, the waters carving out an ever-deeper crevasse in the midst of curtains of colourful flowstone and delicate crystal anthodites that, at a glance, appear to be living flowers. The humid air carries the music of constantly trickling water that echoes from every direction. Further inside the depth of the twilight region, a rimstone pool has carved a bottomless pit into the rock, its edges yawning open as if inviting any who would come its way to enter. The pool no longer contains solely water and blind cavefish. Its dam now holds back something that better remains locked away in never-ending solitude. 

***

Long has she dwelled alone in the darkness. Time means nothing. Now she stirs, waking at last, sensing something important drawing near. The Key. The waters of the massive rimstone pool begin to heave and sway like an ocean current driven forward by the swell of a ship’s wake as it passes a shadowy island. The skin of the sphere darkens, growing black as the ink in a writer’s well; the water’s surface boils coldly. 

Patience. . .Seek them as before. Remember. Lure them in, one by one. Deceive them. Use them. And then. . .devour them.

The water settles; the misshapen orb takes on a hint of azure, appearing serene for a time before mad laughter erupts once more and the pool churns and spins. Nothing would stop her now. But first, the final pieces must be reunited. 

* Direct quotes from [iii] Eriador, Arnor, and the Heirs of Isildur: The North-Kingdom and the Dúnedain.


	2. Shades of Grey

“Shades of Grey”

 

The Shadow pursued him, a grey beast howling at his back, reaching for him with its icy claws. He ran, knowing that fleeing was useless. The Ring’s razor sharp edge sliced across his fingertips and liquid warmth trickled. He stared at his fingers as a waterfall of crimson flowed from his hand only to rise like a great wave, engulfing him, embracing him, and then, like some monster born of his most terrible nightmare, plummeting him into the void.

He struggled, grasping at the jagged rocks with his one good hand, aware that a part of him wanted to let go. He sensed the ground rising to meet him; flames licked up the mountainside like a pack of starved wolves no longer deprived of their kill. Beaten, he opened his arms to embrace the inevitable. . .

“Ahh!” Frodo fell, rolling down the grassy slope and bouncing dangerously off the edge of an overhanging rock before thudding to a stop at last. He lay on his back gasping for breath, staring wide-eyed at the clear night sky. He heard his fellow travellers in the distance, their shouts of confusion growing louder as they neared him. Raising his head, he could see he was far from the shelter of the trees where they’d made camp for the night. 

Sitting up, he touched the lump that was sprouting on his temple. Dazed, Frodo watched Aragorn making his way up the slope to kneel beside him. The man immediately began to inspect him for injuries.

“I’m all right,” Frodo mumbled, feeling foolish not for the first time this week.

“Please allow me to be the judge of that.” Aragorn continued his examination and then sat back on his heels at last, satisfied that Frodo was not seriously injured. He turned to the elf who had appeared at his side, while behind him traipsed the remainder of their company. Legolas regarded Frodo with a keen eye, the corner of his mouth turned up in a smile.

“He is unharmed,” added Aragorn, “Or, at least, mostly unharmed.” He turned back to speak directly to Frodo. “You have a few scrapes and cuts, but nothing serious. However, this goose egg,” he gently touched the side of Frodo’s head causing the hobbit to flinch, “is swelling as we speak.”

“Aragorn, please.” Frodo batted the ranger’s hand away, irritated.

Aragorn ignored the cross protest and hoisted Frodo into his arms. 

“Really sir, this is not necessary. I am perfectly capable of walking.”

“Hush now.” Aragorn eased down the slope. When they were once more on flat ground they were greeted by the worried expressions of the other hobbits. The wizard looked them over with a critical eye, and Aragorn inclined his head in acknowledgement that all was well. When they reached the campfire, he lowered his still-protesting burden gently to the ground, and Frodo found himself surrounded by his kin, who rushed to see for them selves that he was indeed all right. 

Sam covered him with a blanket and leaned back to inspect the damage. “Mr Frodo, you must stop this night-wandering habit of yours!” His attempt to lighten the mood appeared to be as much for his own benefit as for the others. In truth, his heart had been pounding ever since he’d heard the distant scream and realised Frodo had crept from beneath his blankets and stolen away into the night. This had been the third time and Sam was growing more anxious each time. Fortunately, Frodo had avoided being injured until now.

Frodo rubbed gingerly at the emerging bruise, wincing. “I’m fine, Sam.”

“Aye.” Sam bobbed his head. “And may I say, I’ve never seen you looking any finer.”

“There’s no need to be sarcastic,” Frodo said, continuing to knead the side of his head.

Pippin pushed his way between them, eager to have a closer look at his cousin. “You frightened us! Are you certain you’re all right?” 

“Yes, I really am.” Frodo murmured reassuringly. “Now stop fussing over me.” 

Merry said nothing, but the disquiet was apparent in his eyes. 

“That was the third time this week,” Aragorn said. “We need to do something to prevent your sleepwalking. It is becoming much too perilous.”

Frodo started to object again, but Aragorn held up a hand to stop him. “It is not only dangerous for you, but for us all. Now, since one of us must keep watch on the outskirts of our camp, either someone else will have to remain awake or--”

“I’ll not have anyone losing sleep because of me. Really, you are all making too much of this.”

Ignoring the outburst, Aragorn continued, “Or, we must come up with some other solution.”

“Strider?” Sam tugged on the ranger’s sleeve. “Why not lash our feet together?” 

Frodo’s protest was immediate. “No. This is absurd.”

“Just lightly you know, Mr Frodo, so I’ll rouse up if you try to wander again.”

“Oh, that’s plainly a brilliant idea Sam! And suppose one of us needs to, well, answer the call of nature, perhaps? Do you want me dragging you along into the bushes?”

A snigger came from Pippin’s direction. 

Sam frowned at them both. “All you’d need to do is wake me. I’d feel you trying to get up anyway.”

“It’s much more likely I’d forget you were there and likely injure us both when I fell on you.”

“I think that is an excellent idea.” The wizard’s voice rose above the conversation. He retrieved a strip of leather from his pack and tossed it to Sam.

“Do I have no say in this?” Frodo glared at Gandalf. 

“No. You do not.” Gandalf eyed him sternly. “Please carry on, Samwise.”

“Go ahead and lay down, Mr Frodo.” Sam gave him a gentle push. “I’ll keep far enough over so as to give you plenty of room and not bother you overmuch.”

“Oh, good heavens! A fine sight that will make!” Frodo fell back on the blankets without further dissent and crossed his arms, fuming. 

After Sam had secured his leg to Frodo’s, allowing plenty of slack for movement, he grinned down at him. “There, that’s as good an alarm as we could hope for. Now if you need to get up just wake me.” Sam settled down near his friend, and the others followed his lead. The night grew quiet once again and Aragorn returned to stand watch.

After several minutes had passed, a petulant voice spoke into the darkness. “I believe you’re enjoying this a bit too much, Sam.”

“Go back to sleep, Mr Frodo.”

***

A morning sky yawned gray and dismal, bringing with it the threat of snow as they broke camp to begin another day’s trudging. Frodo stretched tired muscles with a groan, thinking how well the gloom matched his mood. He reached for his pack and bumped it instead, spilling its contents on the ground. Mumbling beneath his breath, he stooped to retrieve his belongings. Sam was already at his side helping.

“You really don’t have to do that Sam. I’m perfectly capable of picking up after myself—Oww!” Frodo jerked his hand back and stuck his finger in his mouth.

“Here now, what happened?” Sam’s voice was full of concern.

Frodo studied the wound, a cross expression wrinkling his brow. “I brushed my sore finger across a sharp stone, that’s all.” Frodo resumed his task, stuffing items into his pack with more force than was necessary. He lifted it and staggered backward as Sam attempted to aid him by arranging the burden on his shoulder. Frodo sighed deeply in frustration. Sam meant well but he wearied of being fussed over. Lack of restful sleep had made him irritable.

“Sam! Enough!” He jerked away. “I told you I could do it myself.” Turning away he felt the tug of his conscience at the look of hurt on his friend’s face. Frodo stopped and took a deep breath. Head bowed and eyes closed he exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry Sam,” he said, without turning. “I. . .I’m just tired.”

“Aye, Mr Frodo. I understand.” Sam flushed and he turned back to packing his own things. He knelt and fussed over his pack.

Aragorn walked over to them, having caught the end of the conversation. He cast a thoughtful look at Sam before turning to Frodo. “How are you feeling this morning? You appeared to get more rest following your late night excursion.”

“It was difficult not to, considering I was bound to my bed,” Frodo snapped. He was annoyed with all of them, but even more with himself.

“I would prefer you try to understand, Frodo. Surely you must realise the gravity of the situation. Were we to allow you to continue along the same path it would not be long before you found yourself falling off a much higher rock, or even a cliff.”

Frodo’s expression softened. “I know. I realise you only have my best interests at heart.” He glanced over at Sam who was now taking charge of helping Pippin finish packing up. 

“Sam does also. But I find it difficult to be fretted over constantly. I even understand the leg binding. I just don’t like it.” He contemplated the mountains in the distance for a moment and shivered. “I don’t like a great many things at the moment.”

“You most certainly are not alone in those feelings. Come, Frodo,” Aragorn placed a hand on his shoulder. “Let us finish preparing for the day’s journey, shall we?” 

The day stretched out before them and a dreary curtain of rain chilled them with a light, yet steady drizzle for the next two hours. Finally, as the morning wore on the sun began to peel the curtain back, gradually stripping the dull sky of clouds, and lifting their mood. 

Gandalf studied the horizon, eyes squinted upward, hand shading at the brim of his hat. 

“Hmm. Perhaps the snow will not fall today after all. Or, at least not for a few more hours.” He nodded to his companions. “We may yet embrace another day of sunshine rather than foul weather. Let us take full advantage and make as much progress as possible.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Aragorn said. He nodded to the wizard and moved to the front of the line to start a quiet conversation with Legolas. Gimli had taken up a position in the middle of the group and was closely followed by Sam, who led their pony. Sam reached up on occasion to pat his mane and speak to him. The pony was doing so much better since being freed from Bill Ferny, and the knowledge that the animal now seemed content pleased him a great deal. Sam kept his eyes focused on the ground for the most part. Frodo followed a few steps behind, studying Sam’s back while berating himself for his earlier thoughtless remarks. 

The two younger hobbits trailed behind their cousin. Pippin nudged Merry and nodded at Sam, amused by the prattle. Grinning, he piped up, “Is Bill minding everything you’re saying Sam? Or is he just better company than the rest of us?”

Sam turned halfway around and regarded Pippin with a look of exasperation, but said nothing.

“I think he wants to be left alone,” Merry admonished.

Pippin rolled his eyes and looked around for something else to amuse him. Seeing nothing of interest he shoved his hands into his pockets and brightened at the touch of the small stone he’d found in the stream near their campsite yesterday. He ran his fingers over the smooth surface, marvelling at its warmth.

Merry glanced over at him, his curiosity raised by the serene expression. “What are you so happy about all of a sudden?”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing in particular.”

“I always feel a little apprehensive when you give me that answer while wearing that expression.”

“What? Just what expression are you referring to?”

Merry snorted. “The one that makes me feel like you know something I don’t.”

“I know a good many things that you do not, Meriadoc,” Pippin chuckled.

“I tend to agree with your cousin,” Boromir said from directly behind them.

“Oh! I didn’t know you were there.” Pippin jumped in surprise. He twirled around to walk backwards, looking up at the man. “Were you eavesdropping?”

“And what if I were?” Boromir challenged with a laugh.

“Well, I’d say no need. Come, join us Boromir! Do you have any stories for us today? I’m quite bored with this march and I wish to be amused.”

“Yes well, after the mischief you got yourself into last week I’ve decided you bear closer watching, little one, lest you decide to bite someone again.”

“Now that was simply an accident and you needn’t keep reminding me of it.”

Boromir raised an eyebrow. “How exactly does one bite another person accidentally? I think perhaps you were perturbed with him and found the perfect opportunity for revenge.”

“What! It was Sam’s own idea to offer me a bite of his apple! He felt sorry for me after I dropped mine and it rolled down the hill.”

Boromir leaned over and spoke into Pippin’s ear. “Yes, that’s true, but I don’t recall him offering you a finger to go along with it.”

“He wouldn’t let me hold the apple myself!”

“Because he knows you all too well,” Boromir said with a straight face. “You would have taken it and ran. Instead, you took the biggest bite your mouth could manage, and part of Sam’s finger with it.”

“I did not! Really, Boromir, you are embroidering the tale.”

“And Sam was probably afraid you’d go sliding down the hill to retrieve your apple, and that Frodo would be right behind you to haul you back,” Merry added, joining in on the teasing.

Boromir nodded. “And then the entire Fellowship would have ended up at the bottom of that hill, costing us a dear amount of time whilst we rescued you and your cousin from the water. All that confusion the result of a piece of fruit and a greedy little hobbit.”

“Boromir has a point, Pip.”

“That’s not funny.”

“I think it is,” Merry laughed.

“Well, fine then. I believe I’ll go walk with Frodo.” Pippin hurried ahead, huffing as he went, leaving the two of them chuckling at his back.

Frodo looked up as Pippin joined him. “Is anything wrong Pip?”

“Of course not. I just thought you might enjoy some company, that’s all.”

Frodo glanced back over his shoulder questioningly. Merry raised his shoulders in a shrug. Frodo placed an arm around Pippin’s shoulders and they continued in companionable silence.

***

“Aragorn?” Gandalf eyed the weary group. “I believe it is time we make camp. I do not think the hobbits can go any further tonight.”

Aragorn glanced at his fellow travellers and nodded. “I think that is an excellent idea. I sent Legolas to seek an appropriate campsite a short time ago.” Aragorn nodded towards the rocky land ahead just as the elf appeared on the ridge above them making his way back to the group.

“The area ahead is ideal and easily defensible,” Legolas said as he closed the distance between them. “There is a shallow cave and some outcroppings of rock for additional shelter, and there is water nearby.”

“Splendid! My friend, you are a champion scout when it comes to locating a place of respite,” Aragorn said, and the wizard nodded his agreement.

“What do you think about the possibility of a fire tonight, Gandalf?” Aragorn asked in a low voice as the party started forward again. “Just a small one. The air is extremely chill and with the cover of a cave we may keep it from being easily noticeable.”

The wizard glanced about, considering the question. At last he blew out a breath and nodded. “But let us keep it low indeed. Just because we have not detected any prying eyes today does not mean there are none about.”

“Agreed.” Aragorn turned to the hobbits. “Why don’t you locate some dry wood for a fire?” 

Not needing to be told twice, Merry and Pippin scurried for firewood as Sam lowered his cooking wares onto the nearest rock. 

“Do not go far,” Aragorn called after them. Behind him, packs and weapons were being gratefully lowered and backs were stretched. It wasn’t long before an inviting fire was the centre of their attention as they all gratefully warmed themselves.

“I fear there are many nights ahead when we will not be able to afford the luxury of a fire,” Aragorn spoke softly to Legolas as he held his hands out to warm them.

“Yes, the journey will soon become much more perilous. The mountains are not far ahead now. The snow will be deep and the wind much colder.” Legolas glanced about, making sure he was not overheard. “I believe we must be especially mindful of the needs of the little ones. They will find climbing the mountain path particularly demanding.”

“We must keep a cautious eye on Frodo, as well. He cannot be allowed to wander.”

“Sam will keep him safe. Lashing their legs together was a good idea.”

“Frodo remains rather upset with the idea, although he says he understands the need for our vigilance.” Aragorn glanced over to where the hobbits were busy selecting an area to spread their blankets, noting the grimace on Frodo’s face. “He bears close watching. The Ring is treacherous and we must not underestimate its influence.”

“I agree.”

“However, despite Frodo’s initial resistance it does seem to be working out well. For the moment.”

They were drawn from their private conversation when Sam called them together for the evening meal. It was a time of relative comfort and release from their cares as they smoked pipes and told stories of family back home. Occasionally, Pippin favoured them with a song or two. As the evening’s camaraderie drew to a close Sam made a request.

“Strider, do you think we might take the time to do some wash on the morrow? I’d hate to start up there without being prepared.”

Aragorn regarded him with a grin of amusement. “Sam, as usual you demonstrate a keen sense of foresight. Far be it for me to start us on a trek up a mountain without clean drawers!”

Laughter rose amongst the group, and the merriment increased when Pippin looked around in confusion and asked, “What are ‘drawers’?” He looked at Merry for an answer. His cousin shrugged. 

“Well? What’s so funny about them?” Pippin quirked an eyebrow and waited for someone to answer his question.

Aragorn chuckled. “Men wear them under their clothing, Pippin.” 

“Smallclothes, you twit.” Merry jabbed him playfully with his elbow.

“Ah! Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

Still appreciating the lighthearted mood, Aragorn nodded at Sam. “I believe that would be practical. Good idea, Sam.” 

The gardener blushed. “Well, someone has to think of these things,” he mumbled.

“Sam is quite right.” Boromir nodded in agreement. “Besides, this is indeed the best shelter we have come upon in some time. We may as well take full advantage of it. While the wash is drying we can gather more food for the journey. Once we reach the mountain the snow will deepen and food will be difficult if not impossible to find.” Boromir laid a hand on Pippin’s shoulder. “And the little ones may gather additional wood for us to take along.”

“Are you trying to tell me something Boromir?” 

“Pippin my lad, I’m actually putting you in charge of the wood gathering expedition. See that it’s done right.”

Frodo beckoned Sam away when his friend withdrew the leather string from his pack. Sam followed him to a more private place.

“What is it, Mr Frodo?” 

“I wanted to say that I’m very sorry for being so irritable this morning.” Frodo’s eyes were moist with unshed tears. “I would not have your feelings hurt for anything. Please forgive me Sam.” 

“There’s nothing for you to apologise for. It’s naught but that dreadful Ring talking. I don’t take it hard when I know it’s not like you to say such things, Mr Frodo.” 

“Thank you, Sam.” Frodo headed to the bed of blankets inside the little shelter of rocks where his kinfolk huddled together for warmth, and willingly settled in. He reached for the string and dutifully wrapped it around his ankle. Sam was unable to hide his grin as he took the other end and fastened it securely to his own leg.

The night passed uneventfully. The Ringbearer, while restless, did not thrash about in his sleep; the gentle snores and stirring of the slumbering blended with the sounds of nature and all that reached their ears was the sound of wind rustling through the remaining leaves in the trees, and the quiet shuffle of feet during the changing of the watch.


	3. A Battle of Wills

“A Battle of Wills”

Hobbits involved in the washing of clothes and the gathering of wood can make an entertaining display. Aragorn had discovered the merry scene below as he perched high on a boulder above the campsite, enjoying a brief respite and a draw or two of his pipe. He chuckled as he watched Sam giving out the orders and attempting to show Frodo how best to scrub clothing on a rock. The water was obviously freezing cold, and Frodo clearly had his own ideas about how best to beat clothing on a rock. Aragorn listened to the conversation, laughing quietly. 

“Here, Mr Frodo,” Sam said, coming up behind Frodo with an armful of garments, “why don’t you let me do that?” Sam released his burden and quickly reached for the pair of trousers that Frodo had been turning this way and that in apparent uncertainty.

“What?” Frodo spun, his grip tightening in a protective gesture. This was the third time Sam had tried to pry away Frodo’s task.

“Your hands are turning blue.” Sam gently pulled at the trousers. “The water is so cold today!”

“I know. That’s why I’d prefer to get the washing finished as soon as possible.” Frodo pulled on the trousers but Sam did not let go.

“I can finish this. I’m used to having my hands in cold water. Why, I’ve done lots of washing, what with coming from such a large family and all, so I know how to--”

“I know that, Sam, but you must allow me to do my part. I’ve started this and I can finish the job.”

“You looked confused. I’m sorry, I was only trying to help.”

“But I’m not confused. I was simply trying to decide which end to start with.”

Sam brightened. “Why don’t you go see if there’s anything I’ve missed? You might check with Mr Pippin. He always has something grimy stuffed into the bottom of his pack.”

Frodo found himself counting slowly to ten before speaking again. “Pippin is in the woods with Merry and I’ve already gone through his things.” He tugged at the trousers again. “I’ll finish this myself. Why don’t you go look for anything we may have missed?” 

“I’m fairly sure I’ve gathered all the dirty clothes.”

Frodo’s eyes widened. “Then why did you ask me to go and look?” Frodo pulled the trousers towards himself again.

“Well, because Mr Pippin always has something in his pack that he’s missed giving me. Remember the last time I was washing clothes? He waited until the last minute and then found--” Sam tugged back a little more forcefully this time and the resulting sound of ripping halted them in their tug of war. They stared at each other in dismay. Frodo heaved a sigh as Sam released the trousers.

“I can fix that as soon as they’re dry. There’s naught to fret about.”

“Thank you, Sam.” Frodo turned stiffly back to the stream and slapped the clothing down on the flat rock he had chosen. A few minutes later Sam was back. Frodo could almost feel his friend frowning at his back. Finally, Frodo turned around. “What is it?” his unspoken ‘now’ hung in the air between them. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Well, I was just noticing. . .if you do it that way you’re liable to scrub a hole clean through those breeches. You’ve got to be gentler. Here, let me help you do it the right way.” Sam was the picture of patience as he demonstrated what he meant.

Frodo stared at the rock. True, it wasn’t as smooth as some of the others, but. . . “Bilbo always did it this way. He said it was faster. And I want to finish this task as quickly as I can.”

“Well. . .” Sam stopped and stared at the rocks thoughtfully. He certainly wouldn’t want to disrespect Mr Bilbo’s way of doing things. “I reckon that’s true, and Mr Bilbo always did know just what he was doing. Why don’t you do it like he showed you then, only watch out for those sharp edges?” Sam grinned. “Then you can do it quickly and still not get any holes in your breeches!”

“Good idea.” Relieved, Frodo turned back to the rock with a roll of his eyes that Sam missed. 

A little further away Merry and Pippin had formed an alliance and were busy piling sticks and limbs in the clearing, readying them to be tied into bundles. It was unclear exactly who was in charge as they scurried about trying to outdo one another. Apparently they had decided to make a game of it and each was attempting to best the other in the race to see who could gather more wood the fastest. Aragorn laughed again as he watched Boromir. The man had stopped his work preparing a pheasant for the fire and had joined them, expressing his opinion of their antics.

Aragorn was unable to hear exactly what was being said but he guessed that something had incurred the wrath of the halflings and both grabbed a stick and began to chase Boromir around the campfire. 

Not to be outdone, Boromir also retrieved a limb from the pile and turned the tables on them, running after the fleeing hobbits until they were all out of breath. The play then became a mock sword fight as the man of Gondor took on the fearless hobbits of the Shire in a fight to the death and in short order had them pleading for mercy, using a nearby tree as cover. Boromir relieved them of their ‘weapons’ and called for surrender.

“Aha! I win this battle, Sir Pippin and Sir Merry!” Boromir crowed and bowed formally before them.

“That’s only because you have longer legs and can keep us running non-stop!” Pippin yelled as he retrieved his ‘sword’ and then flung himself upon the ground, placing it across his chest, acknowledging defeat. He closed his eyes and heaved a melodramatic sigh. “Ah, me. Outfought by a mere man and left in disgrace to return to my kinfolk shamed, and with a broken sword!”

Merry plunked down next to him and asked, “How about two out of three?” 

Boromir roared with laughter and sank to the ground between them. All three glanced up when they heard applause and a shout from above and behind them.

“That was very engaging! Are you going to have a rematch?” Aragorn called out.

“Indeed,” snorted Gandalf as he removed the pipe from his mouth and gestured around their campsite. “However, this frivolity is not getting the wood gathered, my lads! Come, let us all get busy once more.”

Pippin popped up hastily as the wizard started towards them, hand dipping into his pocket as if depositing something there. He scrambled to his feet, nudging Merry with his stick. 

“Come Merry, let’s go!” Pippin trotted off into the thick stand of trees, leaving his puzzled cousin to follow at a slower pace. 

Merry glanced back over his shoulder at the others and shrugged before running to catch up with Pippin.

“What was that all about?” Aragorn raised his brow in consternation. “Since when is that young one so eager to get back to wood-gathering without a protest? He’s made it clear more than once it is not his favourite job.”

“I’m not sure.” Gandalf’s eyes followed the hobbits until they were out of sight. “Peregrin did not seem to wish me to approach him closely.” The wizard arched his eyebrow as he spoke. “And that usually means he does not wish for me to see something he has, or that he’s feeling guilty about something he’s done, or perhaps thinking about doing. If you’ll excuse me.” Gandalf followed the hobbits into the woods.

Boromir stared after him. “Well, I for one believe that a round of playfulness is a good thing.” He shook his head. “All too soon our days shall become dark and troubled.”

“I don’t think Gandalf is concerned about them having fun. It seems to me his heart is telling him something.” Aragorn also watched after the wizard for a moment then shook himself out of his reverie. “Have you seen Legolas or Gimli?”

“No, not since they went off this morning for the second time after they brought in all of those pheasants.” Boromir tilted his head in the direction of the game. “I believe we should get back to the job of dressing those.” Aragorn nodded, joining him.

An hour later Aragorn knelt by the water to rinse his hands. He held his knife in the fast current to clean it and glanced around at the sound of someone approaching.

Sam and Frodo moved towards him, their arms laden with wet clothing and began draping the garments across the rocks closest to the fire.

“You are both turning blue. Have a seat and warm yourselves.” Aragorn gestured impatiently at the fire as he rose.

“I’m all right,” Sam protested. “Mr Frodo, on the other hand, why his teeth are chattering!” He gently nudged his friend nearer to the campfire. “He could use a good warming up.” 

Sam pushed his friend gently down on the boulder nearest the fire and turned to head back to the water. Aragorn clamped a hand on his shoulder and spun him towards the fire, pushing him down gently, yet firmly, next to Frodo in one smooth gesture.

“Sit Samwise,” he ordered.

Sam looked up in surprise. “But I’m not even cold yet.” He made as if to rise again but was met with the same firm hand.

“I insist. You need to warm yourself.”

Frodo smiled. “He’s right Sam. How can you expect me to take care of myself if you won’t take care of yourself?”

“But--”

“No buts, Sam,” Frodo said, shaking his head.

“But I--”

“Sam! You must warm yourself or else you could become ill.” Aragorn squeezed the small shoulder in understanding.

Sam settled his chin in his hand with a sigh of defeat. Frodo placed an arm around his shoulders. “There’s a good hobbit, now. We’ll dry ourselves out and then finish our work. What do you say?”

Sam merely grunted his reply.

***

Gandalf followed Pippin and Merry quietly, determined to catch them at any mischief. He was puzzled once more and even a bit disappointed to find them busy at their appointed task. Merry glanced up and saw him, freeing one arm to wave. Gandalf considered for a moment before joining them. Pippin did not shrink back this time, however his smile appeared more innocent than usual. The wizard sighed. There was no doubt about it then. Pippin was hiding something.

“Have you come to help us Gandalf?” Pippin asked.

Ah yes. The lad is trying not to reveal himself. But the harder he tries the more he gives himself away. I only need to watch and wait. And watch you closely I will, Peregrin Took, you may rest assured.

Aloud he said, “Why yes, of course I’m going to help. Remember, we need to gather as much as we may carry ourselves as well as a load for Bill.”  
He smiled serenely at them, his gaze lingering on Pippin’s face. Pippin fidgeted nervously. He looked away, a hint of guilt appearing briefly and then disappearing just as quickly as he rushed to find more wood. But Gandalf had not missed the uneasy expression.  
***  
The Company settled in early for their last night in comfortable shelter. Gimli was taking the first watch and he scouted the area, his axe drawn. Frodo studied the dwarf’s back as he left the encampment. He lay back and found he was having a difficult time clearing his mind of unwanted musing. Soft breathing and occasional snores told him his friends were already asleep. Frodo lay awake for a long time considering the journey up the mountain into the frozen and treacherous days he knew lay ahead of them. He fell at last into a restless slumber. Several hours passed uneventfully. The night wore on. Gimli traded his place on watch with Legolas, stopping long enough to add wood to the fire before retiring to his bedroll.

Frodo stirred.

Fear. The fear was ripe, and growing. It delved deeper than the blackness that engulfed him, and stronger than the cold that threatened to consume him. Escape. The thought haunted him, ruled him, and directed his every moment of awareness to one thing: Flee! He had to get away from the darkness, from the whispering voices in the night. The Ring! The Ring was talking to him, speaking softly in a mysterious tongue, and yet he understood the words. The whispers were louder now, turning into a strange chant, calling his name.

On and on he ran as if through a bog, each step slowing him more, pulling him downward. He clutched the cursed Ring to his breast grasping it tighter, the desire to release it only causing him to squeeze harder. It called out his name again, the voices rising to a shrill scream; he entwined his fingers around the chain about his neck and yanked on the circle of gold, frantic to tear it away. . .

A shout of pain echoed in the night bringing the Company instantly awake.

“Frodo, you’re hurting me!” Pippin’s cries were terrified, his own hands clutched at Frodo’s as he struggled to free himself.

Frodo shook himself awake to find both hands wrapped around Pippin’s fair head, the long strands of curls taut between his fingers. He stared down at his howling cousin, dumbfounded. Merry knelt between them, and without a word attempted to carefully untangle fingers from hair, watching Frodo closely as he did so. Sam was up now, a bewildered expression on his face.

Aragorn was already at their side, one comforting arm around Frodo, the other embracing Pippin. The uproar had summoned Legolas from his point on the watch and he ran into the camp, his face registering his alarm. Legolas and Boromir tumbled from their blankets and Gimli hurried towards them; Gandalf was already rekindling the fire.

Frodo stared at his hands, horrified, and then dropped his face into them, sobbing. Pippin crawled over Aragorn and took his cousin in his arms, tears streaming down his own face as he tried to comfort him.

“It’s all right Frodo. I’m all right, and so are you. Everyone is all right!” Sobs shook Pippin as Frodo began to keen. Aragorn struggled to soothe the distraught pair. 

“All is well. Be at peace, you are safe. Hush…”

Sam wiped the tears away as he watched. After a time Frodo’s breathing became easier and his anguish eased.

“I did not mean to hurt you, Pippin.” He looked around the group. “I would cut off my arm before harming any one of you!” His voice broke and he began to weep once more, shrugging off all attempts to comfort. Frodo reached for the bond on his ankle and began to loosen it.

“What are you doing?” Sam put out a hand to stop him.

“I have to go. I will be back soon.”

“Would you like one of us to go along with you, Mr Frodo? You’re still shaky.”

“No, Sam. This is one thing I am capable of doing by myself.” With that, Frodo rose and rushed away.

“Let me go with you!” Pippin started to rise and was yanked back by his braces, landing firmly on his backside. The wizard eyed him sternly.

“Sit down, Peregrin. Allow your cousin a moment of privacy with his thoughts, if you please.”

Pippin obeyed, huddling miserably and straining his eyes into the darkness watching for Frodo’s return.

Boromir edged forward to place one comforting arm around Pippin, and another about Merry. “Come lads. He will be all right. Go back to sleep while we still have a few hours left in the night.” 

Boromir assisted them to their bedrolls, ignoring their protests and insisting they lay back into their blankets. He was surprised with the level of feeling he was developing for these little ones. Not children, although one was not yet fully grown, but Boromir marveled at the depth of concern he had developed for them. He was reminded once again of the years he had tended to his own younger brother, who had lacked the loving tenderness of their mother for most of his life. 

Legolas fondly watched the scene between Boromir and the hobbits. It was obvious the comforting extended both ways. He nodded to Aragorn. “I will take the watch now and keep an eye on Frodo as well.”

“That will not be necessary, my friend. I shall go to him. I believe he needs to empty his heart of his disturbing thoughts before he is able to sleep again. Perhaps I shall be the means for that release.”

Aragorn walked through the woods, easily locating Frodo in a small clearing not far from their camp. Aragorn knelt beside him and took the halfling into his arms, allowing him to weep for as long as he wished. 

“Aragorn. . .”

“Let it out, Frodo, and then you shall be at peace.” 

“Aragorn, what if I had hurt Pippin? What if I had hurt anyone? I cannot do this!” 

“Frodo, listen to me.” Aragorn held him at arm’s length and looked into his tear stained face. “You would not. Trust me. You could not, nor did you hurt him. Pippin is well. There is no harm done.”

“But what if I had? I could not live with that!”

“Frodo, listen to me. I do not believe it is within you to harm those you love. You must trust me. In spite of your nightmares, in spite of the Ring, you will recognise your family and your friends and will not be responsible for any harm. You are the one who is suffering the most at this time. Remember we are all here to help you. Never lose sight of that.”

They sat by the rippling water for a while longer. Frodo was actually beginning to doze when Aragorn lifted him into his arms and started back to camp. Frodo roused and admonished him slightly, but Aragorn simply smiled and ignored the half-hearted protests. He carried him back to the others and deposited him gently into the blankets between Sam and Pippin. Aragorn rose and went to join Gandalf by the fire. He pulled out his pipe and spoke quietly to the wizard.

“He is asleep at last.”

Gandalf sighed heavily. “It will be a long night I think. We will not sleep following that scene.”

“It was indeed disquieting.” 

They sat in silence for a time before Aragorn spoke again.

“Frodo is frightened that he will not always have control over what the Ring does to him.”

“He was chosen for a reason. We must trust in that. I do not believe he will lose control of himself. He has resisted the Ring thus far and has demonstrated great strength in carrying the burden. He will persist.”

“I agree. But he needs to believe in himself.”

The wizard nodded. “Another concern I have is that we shall soon need to journey by cover of darkness. We have been fortunate thus far, but there is no doubt in my mind that travelling at night will be the best course to take.”

Aragorn lowered his pipe and sighed. “You are quite right, of course. We head further into danger with each passing day. If Frodo wanders off in the daylight it may be worse than his night wandering. The spies of Sauron are everywhere.”

“Yes, and the disruption in sleep may add to Frodo’s difficulty, and that of his kinsmen. They are not accustomed to the adjustments the rest of our Company is familiar with. Yet, I feel that the hobbits will take on this challenge with their usual self-possession,” Gandalf chuckled.

“I agree.”

They fell silent and waited the dawn, puffing on their pipes, each lost in thought.


	4. Riddles

“Riddles”

 

As they trudged along the next day Frodo’s mind was awhirl. Fear clutched at his chest and he was unable to shed the last evening’s nightmare, and the fear it had caused him. What if I had hurt Pippin, --? Frodo thought. I simply could not live with that! But what can I do? If I can’t control it perhaps it would be better for everyone if I just went on alone. He shook his head at the idea. I don’t know the way to Mordor! Frodo sighed heavily. It was fast becoming a habit. His mournful expression alerted Sam to his misery. Merry and Pippin were also watching him carefully. Frodo tried to smile at them, but it was more a grimace.

How can I be sure I won’t harm the others? What about Sam? He stays so close to me. And I’ve become so annoyed with him. What if I turn on him in my sleep, or worse, when I am awake? 

Sam crept close. “Mr Frodo, Mr Pippin’s come up with a riddle as he thinks no one can guess! You’re right good at riddles. Can you guess this one? Here, Mr Pippin, can you ask your riddle again?” 

Frodo was not fooled. He knew it was an attempt to get his mind off his troubles, but he could hardly resent it, knowing it was motivated by affection. Frodo gave Sam a weary smile of gratitude.

“Certainly Sam!” Pippin turned around and repeated his question. 

"You saw me where I never was   
and where I could not be.   
And yet within that very place   
My face you often see." 

Merry chuckled. “That really is awfully good, Pip! I’ve been thinking it over since you first came up with it and I still haven’t figured it out.” 

“That is a right puzzling one, isn’t it, Mr Frodo? But I reckon you can figure it out!”

Frodo released a small breath, the sound almost imperceptible. Sam’s enthusiasm did not motivate him. “Well. . . give me a moment to consider it.” He rubbed his chin and tried to concentrate. “Are you in a tree?”

“What?” Pippin’s eyes widened and then he laughed. “No, I’m afraid I’m not up a tree. Guess again!”

Silence. Frodo made another half-hearted attempt. “Are you inside a bubble?” Frodo frowned, realising how ridiculous this sounded as soon as he said it, but still making an effort to join in the game for the sake of the others. He knew they were only trying to help.

“Bubble? How did a bubble get into this riddle, Frodo?” Pippin asked.

“Well now, I think Mr Frodo is talking about a soap bubble, Mr Pippin. Is that right, Mr Frodo?” 

Frodo shook his head, as much to clear it, as to indicate he was not thinking of a soap bubble. Quite honestly, at this point he had no idea exactly what he was thinking. Summoning his patience, he tried again. “Uh, is it a portrait?” 

Pippin shook his head. “I’ll give you a hint. That’s close.”

“Hmm.” Frustration prickled at the back of Frodo’s neck like the briars on a rose bush. Normally, he would enjoy such a challenge.

Sensing Frodo’s increasing frustration, Pippin decided to end the guessing. ”Does everyone give up? The answer is a reflection! You see? I told you no one would guess correctly.” 

“Very good, Mr Pippin! What about you, Mr Frodo? I’ll wager you know a good riddle to share, like as no one will guess, just as Mr Pippin did,” Sam asked, eager to keep the mood light. 

“Let me think.” Frodo gathered his determination. “All right, how about this one? I heard Uncle Bilbo tell it a long time ago. “It cannot be seen, it weighs nothing, but when put into a barrel, it makes it lighter. What is it?” 

“Cannot be seen. . .makes the barrel lighter. . .” Merry pondered. 

“Air?” Pippin ventured. Merry snorted. Pippin half-turned, giving him a conspiratorial wink.

“A hole,” said Sam suddenly, face brightening. 

“That’s right! Very good, Sam,” Frodo said, his smile genuine. 

“Oh! I have another! It’s one of my favourites.” Pippin recited, “At night they come without being fetched. By day they are lost without being stolen. What are they?” 

“Stars!” Merry said. “You’ve told that one far too often.” 

Starting to get into the spirit of the fun at last, Frodo offered another riddle without being prompted. “What starts with a T, ends with a T, and has T in it?” 

“I know! A teapot!” Pippin laughed. “Pearl taught me that one.” 

“That was too easy. How about another?” Merry teased. 

They shared their jests and riddles for a while longer until Frodo began to weary of the game. The voices of his cousins and Sam seemed to be coming to him from far away, as if he were walking inside a tunnel, the sound muffled. His mind felt foggy and each step required more effort. Frodo’s expression darkened and he spoke a last riddle, softly. “What begins and has no end? What is the ending of all that begins?”-- 

They ventured their guesses until finally Frodo stopped and turned to them, surrendering the answer. “Death. It ends all that begins, and there's no end to death.” 

The others stopped in their tracks. No one spoke. Frodo turned and trudged away from them. 

***

He wandered in the woods. Someone was following, he was sure of it. He ducked behind a tree and peered out into the blackness of the night. The wind whistled through the treetops, attracting his attention. Black wings flew overhead. He huddled at the base of the tree, shivering. The Nazgûl! It is no use. He surrendered to the expanding black wings as they descended, encircling him in a cloak of darkness. . .

Frodo shrieked and tried to escape. Aragorn pulled him back, wrapping his cloak around the shivering hobbit.

“Shush! Peace, Frodo! You have been night wandering again.” Aragorn sat on the ground beneath the tree laying a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“What happened? Where am I?”

“You loosened the binding about your ankle and freed yourself from Sam. I found you wandering amongst the trees.” 

Frodo’s eyes widened. “I did not do it with resolve, Aragorn. I do not even recall my actions.”

“And that may be so.”

“What do you mean – may be so? I told you, I did not do it with forethought! I was dreaming.” Frodo fell back against the Ranger again. “The Nazgûl were upon me. I could not get away.” 

“You must fight it Frodo! You are giving into it little by little. The Ring feeds on hopelessness and despair. You cannot allow this to continue lest hope be lost. Not only for you, but for us all!” Aragorn gave him a not so gentle shake.

Frodo leaped up and turned to face Aragorn, his eyes flashing angrily. “I am fighting it! Each and every moment of the day and the night! You cannot know what I am going through, the torment I am feeling! How dare you judge me in such a fashion!” Frodo whirled and began to storm back to camp. 

Aragorn hurried after him. “Wait a moment.”

Frodo fumed, but waited for Aragorn to speak, arms folded angrily across his chest. Aragorn rested his hand on Frodo’s arm.

“What I am saying is the truth. You cannot see it because you are too close to it. You must allow the rest of us to help you.”

Frodo was silent for a long moment. “May I return to camp now?” The voice was cold, as was the anger it held.

Aragorn lifted his hand. “You may go. But we will speak of this again, when you have rested.”

Frodo said nothing and trudged back to the others, refusing to meet the curious stares of his companions who had been awakened by the angry voices. Frodo flopped into his bed of blankets and turned his back to everyone. Several eyebrows were raised in confusion. Sam carefully reached out to reattach the leather tie to Frodo’s ankle.

“Leave it,” growled Frodo, slapping the hand away.

Sam looked up at Aragorn in confusion. The Ranger simply shook his head and reached for the string. “It is all right Sam,” he whispered. “We will keep our eyes on him this night,” he said with a nod to Legolas and Gandalf. “Get some sleep now, and do not worry.” 

Aragorn headed away from the group, returning to his patrol. Gandalf hurried after him. “What was that all about?” 

“Frodo released his foot and went for a walk. While I’ve no doubt he had a waking dream I do feel that he knew what he was doing when he freed himself from Sam. He is still frightened he will harm someone, and he is allowing that fear to consume him.”

“I find I am in agreement.” 

“I tried talking with him after I followed him into the woods. You witnessed his reaction. Gandalf, he trusts you and has known you for many years. Perhaps you should speak with him?”

The wizard shook his head. “Aragorn, I feel it is vital for Frodo to learn to trust you. However, if he does not respond to your efforts soon, then I shall have a talk with him. I prefer you to make another attempt before I do that.”

Aragorn nodded. “Very well. I will speak with him on the morrow and endeavor to impress upon him the folly of his actions.” 

There was no further conversation as they waited the dawn, each preoccupied with his thoughts.

***

The Company rose to face the day as Gimli returned from his watch at the perimeter of their camp and began making ready for the journey. Aragorn had risen very early. Indeed, he had barely slept that night. He watched Frodo from the corner of his eye as he tended to the dying embers of the fire. Detecting the foul mood still firmly in place the Ranger sighed. This would not be easy. Nor most likely would it be pleasant. However, it was necessary. 

Aragorn glanced over at Gandalf, who was resting his back against a large rock as he repacked his belongings. The wizard caught his eye and nodded his agreement. Aragorn went to stand behind Frodo, who was sullenly stuffing his belongings into his pack. The Ranger went unacknowledged.

“Frodo.” Aragorn spoke quietly.

Frodo ceased his task for the briefest of moments and then resumed his ill-tempered packing. He did not respond.

Aragorn raised his voice slightly. “Frodo!”  
Once again he was ignored and his query had attracted the attention of the others. Sam looked up in confusion. “Mr Frodo? Strider is talking to you.”

Frodo chose to disregard them both. Sam stared up at Aragorn, who shook his head and motioned for him to move away. Sam did so obligingly and joined Merry who was observing the scene with a puzzled frown. 

Pippin leaned over and poked Frodo playfully, his sunny voice in direct contrast to his cousin’s cool manner. “Frodo! Don’t you hear us? What’s the matter?”

Frodo whirled on Pippin and favoured him with a dark scowl. “I’m not hard of hearing Pippin!”

Pippin fell back, a look of hurt astonishment on his face. Pippin was about to retort just as Aragorn’s hand fastened itself on Frodo’s shoulder, hoisting him to his feet in one swift movement. Pippin stared up at the two of them in alarm. Gandalf watched the display with interest while Boromir exchanged an uncomfortable look with Legolas. The dwarf stood back from the group and contemplated the scene, his expression unreadable. The Fellowship was still as they beheld Frodo’s rage in disbelief. Aragorn remained coolly determined.

“You will not treat others in this way. Nor will you ignore me when I am speaking to you.” 

Frodo spun around, shrugging off the Ranger’s hand, his face a dark frown. “And you sir, will not tell me what I must do, night and day. I am an adult, the same as you. And I will not be ordered about for one moment longer!” Frodo began to stalk away only to find himself halted by the strong hand once more.

“Then you, sir, need to start acting like an adult. There is no place on this journey for childish behaviour, yet you insist on continuing in this manner and I will not allow it any longer. The sooner you accept that, the better off we will be.”

Frodo turned slowly to face him. “I shall behave in whatever manner I please.” 

The pair stared at one another, neither of them moving. The others held their breath. Aragorn said, “We must speak privately.”

The angry words and raised voices filtered to the rest of the Fellowship as they waited at a discreet distance, occasionally trading uncomfortable glances.

At last, Pippin could stand it no longer. He jumped to his feet and sprinted off into the woods. With a glance at the others, Legolas went after him. Merry made as if to follow but Boromir put out a hand to stop him.

“No, allow him some time to himself. Pippin will come back shortly, and meanwhile Legolas will keep an eye on him.”

Merry thought about going anyway, but decided Boromir was right. He turned back to the heated debate between Ranger and Ringbearer, wishing he could intervene. Behind him, Boromir rested a hand on his shoulder.

***

Pippin ran as fast as his legs would carry him. Out of breath and panting, he circled back to the stream and sank to the ground, drawing his legs up to his chin, rocking to and fro. The motion comforted him and he rested his head upon his knees and sat quietly. 

Nearby, Legolas studied the scene with curiosity. Pippin remained motionless for several minutes before his head popped up and he appeared to listen warily. Legolas glanced around, detecting nothing alarming. Pippin rose and clambered down to the stream where he leaned over a big rock, taking careful note of the water. He lifted his head to study the area further downstream and then headed in that direction. Pippin seemed to have forgotten his earlier distress in favour of the new pursuit. The Elf followed without a sound.

Pippin walked beside the stream for some time, occasionally pausing to study the landscape. Every now and then he knelt and felt around at the waters edge before rising and continuing in the same manner. He had made his way far down the stream and Legolas was about to intervene when Pippin stopped at last. As they had travelled, the water’s path had widened, and Pippin gazed across the water, shading the glare with his hand, seemingly enthralled. Finally he shrugged, as though puzzled himself, and began to walk back the way he had come. Looking up for the first time, he started at the sight of the Elf.

“Oh!” Pippin’s hand flew to his chest. “You gave me such a fright! I wish you’d stop doing that!”

“My apologies. Would you care to return to camp with me? You have wandered far away from the others, and it is not safe.”

Pippin gave a nod and fell into step beside him. “Do you suppose Aragorn and Frodo are finished having words?”

“I am certain of it.” 

“You would hear, even from this distance, wouldn’t you?”

Legolas nodded and Pippin chuckled, giving a shake of his head. “Such sensitive ears. I wish I could hear that well.”

“Indeed? My understanding is that hobbits also have keen hearing.”

“We do, but not as exceptional as elves, it seems.”

They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, Legolas pondering what he had seen. “Pippin, earlier you appeared as if you were listening to something, but my ears detected nothing. I am puzzled. What were you listening for?”

Pippin looked up in surprise, realising for the first time that his secret was no longer his alone. He considered the question, wondering how to answer it. “I’m not certain.” He laughed self-consciously. “Well, there have been a few times lately when I’ve heard something, or thought I did. It’s a voice, or perhaps just a sound that I can’t name. At times it feels like music, a fleeting bit of song, but it always eludes me. I don’t understand the words, but. . .it feels like something is calling out to me.” 

“Does it frighten you?”

“No,” he said slowly, “not particularly. It puzzles me more than anything. Strangely enough, I have the feeling I should know what it is. As if I’ve perhaps forgotten something I should remember. Do you understand what I mean?” He stared up at the elf, his brow furrowed.

“No, little one. I am not at all certain what it is you are saying. But I will reflect on it and see if anything comes to my mind. Perhaps you might speak of it to Gandalf? He may offer you some insight.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

Pippin didn’t answer. Instead, he fidgeted with an imaginary loose thread on his shirtsleeve and glanced back at the water.

“Perhaps you would prefer to discuss it with Merry? Or Frodo?”

“I don’t know. I wonder if some things aren’t best kept to one’s self. I’ll think about it, though.” Pippin glanced up. “Legolas?”

“Yes?”

“Please don’t tell anyone about what I’ve said.”

Legolas appeared taken aback by the request. Pippin searched his face, noting the reluctance and hurried to offer an explanation. “For the time-being, at least? I want to think things over by myself before anyone insists that I talk about it.”

“All right. However, I will not promise to hold secrets that may need revealing on this journey. Do you understand?”

“Oh! Yes, of course. But for now you will keep my confidence?”

Legolas nodded and the pair continued the rest of their walk in silence.

***

“Do you think the matter is settled?” Boromir squinted at the objects of their scrutiny, cautiously optimistic now that things had quieted down.

Gandalf studied the pair before replying. “For a time. Frodo possesses an exceptional strength of mind, and it can work either for him or against him. The Ring will attempt to persuade him to doubt himself. Indecisiveness is Frodo’s enemy, and our own.”

Boromir nodded. “I recognise this. The mind is powerful when set to its course. Through the Ring Sauron works at changing Frodo’s belief that he will ultimately destroy it. I think we are faced with a true battle of wills.” 

“Indeed, that is the entire issue. But Frodo’s will must win in the end, no matter the cost.”


	5. Voices

“Voices”

They called to him yet again; musical voices, their song drifting into his ears, entwining themselves around his spirit. Soft and soothing, they tempted him to sink into their peaceful tones, to lose himself, and submit to their will. They whispered his name in a strange tongue, and yet he understood. They promised him solace if only he would join in their journey. He reached out to the tiny glowing spheres, following their call into a place without time, where the swirling colours held bitter tastes, and voices danced with the clouds in wild abandon. When he touched the sky the horizon echoed with music that both delighted and repelled him. A shadow within the mist seemed to peer at him. Who lingered there? Pippin called out and felt the soft touch of his own voice as it echoed in return; the pain and joy consumed him. . .  
***

Frodo tried to force his mind shut to their unremitting call, but the voices insisted he listen. He whirled away, seeking silence, but still the voices interfered; their music grew dark, the quality, jarring. Melodies threatened, beckoned and repelled him. He clutched the Ring, turning this way and that, seeking a path away from the misery; his thoughts scattered like feathers upon the wind. Stumbling forward, the voices followed, taunting and tempting him. Far ahead, a figure melted within the gloom. Its face was a void; its engaging laughter belied its true nature. Frodo felt the chill breath upon him and a scream rose in his throat. He struggled to free it . . .

***

Pippin awoke with a start. He sat up quickly and darted a look of unease about the campsite, straining to hear something, anything, in the darkness. Instead, all that greeted him were the night sounds of the mountain and the gentle snores of his companions. In the near distance he discerned the squat figure of the Dwarf, dutifully walking his patrol around the perimeter of their camp. Pippin turned to his kin, his gaze falling on Merry, who appeared to rest quietly. Next, Pippin watched Frodo, his brow wrinkling in dismay as he realised Frodo was dreaming. His cousin’s lids twitched as the eyes concealed beneath them followed some unknown action with fervent intensity. Pippin leaned over and gently nudged him. 

“What, what is it?” Frodo woke with a start and sat up quickly, eyes searching Pippin’s face, concern evident in his drawn features. “What’s wrong?” Frodo forced himself awake with a shake of his head.

“You were dreaming. I was worried you were having another nightmare.” Pippin scanned their surroundings. “I was dreaming too.” 

Frodo stretched out an arm to comfort Pippin. “It’s all right. It was just a dream. Go back to sleep.” Frodo started to lie down but hesitated at the quality of Pippin’s whisper.

“Frodo, I’m afraid.” 

“Of what?” Frodo kept his voice low. 

“I’m not certain. My dream. . .it felt like someone was making me do something against my will. I don’t know. . .it was. . .like someone was inside my mind with me. A voice was speaking to me. It seemed to want me to do something. I’m not sure how to explain it.” He shivered again, harder this time, and clung to Frodo tightly.

“Pippin, dreams are odd things, you know. They seem very real while we’re having them, and when we first wake up. But your dream will fade and then you will feel better,” Frodo soothed. “Nothing is after you. Now, let’s go back to sleep, shall we?” Frodo lay back and pulled the blanket up to his chin. 

Pippin remained sitting. “It knew my name,” he said, his voice sounding small and lost. When Frodo did not respond he asked, “What was your dream about?”

Frodo shuddered. “I would rather not discuss it. Go to sleep.” With that he turned over, pulling the blanket with him. Sam mumbled but did not move at the disturbance as Frodo settled in beside him.

Pippin stared at his back for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip. Finally, he threw back the cover and started to rise.

“Where are you going?” Frodo’s tone told Pippin his cousin was losing patience with him.

“I have to go, that’s all. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.” 

Pippin moved carefully but not quietly enough to avoid alerting Legolas. The Elf took note of the direction in which Pippin was heading and then arose to follow. Having overheard the conversation he knew Pippin was upset about something. His instincts told him that the young one’s purpose in heading away from the group had little, if anything, to do with answering the call of nature.

Stealthily, he followed the hobbit out of their sheltered area among the rocks. Although Pippin moved almost silently it was not difficult to track him across the snowy ground. Legolas was able to stay out of sight with ease. 

After walking a considerable distance from the safety of their campsite Pippin abruptly was still. He tilted his head upward to the night sky, his curls falling back from his face. With a puzzled frown, he searched the stars, holding this pose for so long Legolas began to fear for him. He had already taken several steps forward when Pippin lowered his head and slowly turned, trudging back the way he had come. Legolas quickly stepped behind an outcropping of rock. He watched curiously as the hobbit passed his hiding place, then followed, waiting for Pippin to tuck himself back into his blankets before letting out a small breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding.

He closed the rest of the distance and headed Gimli off on his path to awaken Gandalf. The Dwarf started when Legolas appeared as if out of thin air beside him.

“Ahh! By all that is good and proper, don’t sneak up on a body like that, Elf!” Gimli clutched his chest in alarm. “What are you trying to do, stop my heart?”

“I am sorry.” Legolas dipped his head in apology. “It was not my intention to fail to announce my presence. I will take the next watch.”

Gimli regarded him quizzically. “Well, I suppose that’s all right, but my watch is not up for a few hours yet, and Gandalf has the watch after me.”

“However, I am already up and about. It is better to allow the wizard his rest, is it not? I will take his watch as well as my own.”

“If that’s what you want to do, far be it for me to argue with you. I’ll be turning in then.” Gimli shouldered his weapon and departed for his bedding near the fire.

Legolas made his way to the outer perimeter. He occasionally stopped and listened intently as he studied his surroundings with piercing eyes. He heard nothing save the night noises commonplace to the mountains. His only company appeared to be the bright stars above. Legolas pondered the hobbit’s restlessness. The Company certainly did not need another night wandering halfling, however Pippin had been fully awake and aware of his actions. Legolas did not wish to be the cause erved the entire scene through half-closed eyes, watching until Pippin was safe beneath the blankets once more and Legolas had gone to take the watch from Gimli. He listened to their quiet conversation. Although he had been afforded extra rest due to the Elf’s sacrifice, Gandalf did not slumber for the remainder of the night. His thoughts continued going over the scene he had witnessed as he held vigil over his companions.

***

The pebbles were shiny and smooth. Each one he collected was a different shade than the one before it. Always located in the water, it was almost as if they were following him wherever they travelled. He wondered how this treasure had come to him, why he was theof his getting into trouble with Aragorn. However, his behaviour was potentially hazardous. As he had warned, it was not wise to be keeping secrets on this journey. He resolved to have a private conversation with Pippin when they stopped to rest tomorrow. 

Legolas was not aware that yet another had awakened and noticed the coming and going of one small hobbit and an Elf. Gandalf obs one who always found the small rocks with the brilliant glow, but for now the simple pleasure of possessing them was enough.

Pippin studied the stones as he readied his pack for the day’s march, pausing to count them again. There were four in all now. He caressed the brightest one thoughtfully as he worked, careful to keep it out of view of questioning eyes. The dreams of the night before had begun to haunt his waking thoughts. Pippin still felt very disturbed. He puzzled over the voices he was certain he heard on occasion, as well as the voices in his dream. They knew his name and that gave him pause. It wasn’t fear, exactly. But he hadn’t liked the dreams. The dreams made him feel as though something beyond his control was taking place. Pippin looked up when he heard Merry calling him.

“I’m coming!” He shouldered the pack and deposited the stones back into his pocket.

The day’s walk was tiring, the wind biting cold. The snow deepened as they climbed. Frodo was feeling out of sorts again. He hadn’t slept well, and being awakened by Pippin and questioned about his dreams had not helped matters. He lifted his head and listened to the raised voices of his cousins as they trudged along behind him. Tossing a look at Sam, Frodo shook his head, disgusted.

“They’re at it again,” Sam said in a low voice

Frodo nodded grimly. “I do not understand it.”

“Well, per’aps it’s just the cold getting to them, and they’re tired.”

“Maybe.” Frodo stopped and looked over his shoulder, studying his battling cousins. “But I’ve never seen them this out of sorts with one another over something of that nature. Normally they would pull together all the more.”

“And how are you feeling today, Mr Frodo?” Sam surveyed him with a critical eye.

“Tired, but I’m well Sam. Not to worry.” Frodo felt Sam’s eyes upon him as he started walking again and knew his friend did not believe a word of what he’d said.

They trudged on and Frodo ruminated over his latest dream. His mood darkened all the more. He was growing annoyed once more with all of Sam’s fussing, but strengthened his resolve not to let it bother him.

Further back in line Boromir and Legolas were conspiring. They had been discussing the strife between the youngest hobbits and had come to an agreement. They eased up on the feuding cousins and Boromir grasped Merry’s arm and led him away.

Legolas pulled Pippin in the opposite direction. The Elf smiled reassuringly at him and pressed a finger to his lips to quiet the startled hobbit.

“What’s this?” Merry protested, looking up at Boromir in surprise. “What’s wrong?”

Boromir stopped and released Merry’s arm. He nodded at Legolas and Pippin. “I think you need someone else’s company for a while, Merry. There has been too much disagreement between you and Pippin. The rest of us weary of listening to it.”

Merry shrugged and resumed walking. “It’s Pippin’s fault. He’s been as touchy as a bear the last few days. I can’t say anything to him without him getting offended.”

Boromir raised an eyebrow. “Are you certain it is all Pippin’s fault? What have you been saying to him exactly, to cause him to be so upset?”

“Nothing! I’ve just been looking out for him, that’s all. Nothing new about that.”

“I have a feeling this has something to do with the berry bush incident yesterday.”

“Well, I did mention how foolish it was for him to practically hang upside down over a cliff for a few measly berries.”

Boromir shook his head in consternation. “But, as I understand it, he was unaware of the long drop and simply made an error in judgment?”

“Errors like that will get him killed,” Merry muttered.

“That is true, but do not hold a simple mistake against him.” Boromir glanced ahead and noticed Legolas was having his own conversation with Pippin. “Just help us to keep a close eye on him, as we do Frodo.”

Merry snorted. “Keep a close eye on Pippin? You must be jesting. The rascal can get away from you before you even know what happened.” Merry sighed. “He’s always been like that. And I’m not going to put up with it for much longer.”

“Perhaps you could try a little harder.”

“Maybe,” Merry said, doubt betraying his true feelings. “But right now I’m this close,” he held up finger and thumb revealing a tiny space between them, “to thumping him soundly for his trouble.”

Boromir frowned his disapproval. 

Pippin was listening impassively to Legolas’s concerns, nodding in all the right places, but his mind was still preoccupied with his dream. 

Impatient with Pippin’s reticence, Legolas paused and studied him before raising his voice slightly. “I do not believe you are listening to me. What I am telling you is quite important.” 

Pippin tilted his head back and shading his eyes from the sun, stared up at him. “I hear you Legolas. For pity’s sake, I’ve been listening to every word.” How could I not hear you when you’re right up in my ear? he thought. Pippin tried to placate Legolas. He wasn’t inclined to talk about the problem and hoped to convince Legolas to let it go before the others overheard. “I’m sorry. I’ll not go wandering again. I promise.” Pippin started to walk away.

Legolas followed. “It is not the wandering that is my greatest concern at the moment. It is what else you are doing such as, the way you have been so cross towards Merry. That is not like you.” Legolas paused, studying the retreating hobbit’s back. “Are you still hearing things? Does that have anything to do with your anger?”

Pippin flinched and glanced guiltily about at the others. It didn’t appear that anyone had overheard the conversation. Aragorn and Gandalf were far ahead of them in the line, deep in their own concerns. Frodo and Sam had purposefully put some distance between them and Merry was trailing behind with Boromir. Gimli was at the very rear of their march. Pippin breathed a sigh of relief. 

Legolas did not miss the furtive action. “No one is listening to us. But I am having second thoughts about keeping this from Aragorn.”

Pippin pleaded, “Don’t tell him! Don’t tell anyone.”

“Why is that so important to you? I do not understand.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Then help me to understand.”

Pippin said nothing.

Legolas came to a decision. “Either you talk to Aragorn or I will be forced to.”

Pippin stared at him with narrowed eyes. He huffed his displeasure and started to walk away. Legolas grabbed his arm once more and hauled him back to his side. “Now who is attracting attention to himself? I am serious, Peregrin. There will be no more putting it off. You must speak to him, or I will.” 

Pippin pressed his lips together. “This isn’t fair Legolas. I thought we were friends.”

“It is for that reason I am asking you to speak with Aragorn. I am your friend, Pippin.”

“You didn’t ask me. You told me.”

Legolas sighed softly and closed his eyes, massaging his temples. Elves seldom got headaches but he felt one coming on nevertheless. Hobbits! How did I get myself into this? he wondered. “Then kindly explain to me why you are so reluctant to reveal this. Surely you realise Aragorn will do his utmost to help you?”

Pippin snorted rudely. “He would tell Gandalf and they would cluck their tongues over what a queer young hobbit I am. I can hear it now! Pippin’s such a fool of a Took! Hearing things, is he? Why, he’s just like his ridiculous Aunt Pringle. You know, the one everyone whispers about. Ah yes, the peculiar one. Now we have another in our midst!” Pippin chuckled mirthlessly as he drew in a breath and continued, his words spilling out in a rush. 

“And here’s Peregrin acting just like her now! Well, how truly amazing. Everyone knows that Aunt Pringle’s oddness appears at least once every other generation or so, but we thought we got lucky and it passed us by this time. We knew it would appear again, and how fitting for it to be Peregrin because he’s just so foolish! Why, he’s awfully likely to go mad soon--”

Legolas stared at the volatile hobbit in shock, finally interrupting the tirade. “Enough Pippin! Whatever are you going on about? You know neither Aragorn nor Gandalf would treat you thus. Why, you are near hysterical! Whatever is wrong with you? This is not like you at all.”

Pippin stared up at the Elf as if seeing him for the first time, then burst into tears. Legolas was dumbfounded as he knelt, placing a comforting arm around Pippin. There was no getting around attracting the attention of the others this time. Merry rushed to his cousin’s side as the rest of their party came to a halt; gradually the realisation dawned that something was wrong. 

Aragorn headed for the little gathering casting a puzzled frown at Legolas, who shrugged helplessly as Gandalf approached. Boromir watched Merry attempting to calm his cousin while Frodo led them both to a place to sit. The Dwarf had caught up to them and lingered nearby, his foot perched upon a small rock and as he studied the scene, baffled.

“I would suggest this is probably an opportune time to have a bit of a rest and something to eat,” the wizard suggested dryly.

Aragorn nodded. He beckoned to Frodo and bid him follow to a more private place. Frodo obeyed reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder in concern as he left Pippin to Merry’s care. Aragorn knelt on one knee, bringing himself to eyelevel with Frodo and placed a hand on his arm. The hobbit gazed back at him, worry written all over his face.

“Do you have any thoughts as to what is wrong with Pippin? He is clearly not himself.”

Frodo shook his head. “I don’t understand it. As I was just saying to Sam, Pippin has been acting a bit curiously of late. He has been baiting Merry all morning with his various comments, and then reacting crossly when Merry retaliates. Then he starts an argument and acts the injured party. I believe that is the reason Boromir and Legolas separated them earlier.”

Aragorn nodded. “Not only has Pippin been reacting with uncharacteristic anger towards Merry, he also seems to be displaying a poor attitude to others. His reaction to the conversation with Legolas was overly dramatic, even for him. I must find out what their talk was about.”

Frodo watched Pippin, who was sitting on a rock, arms folded across his chest, not uttering a word to anyone despite their attentions. He studied his cousin thoughtfully for a moment. “Pippin woke me last night while I was in the midst of a bad dream. I was actually quite relieved he did. He was frightened though.” Frodo tugged at his bottom lip. “He’d been dreaming. He was afraid. . .” Frodo hesitated, trying to recall their conversation. “Afraid about something trying to get inside his mind, he said. He told me it was as if someone had been talking to him, or attempting to make him do something. He was rather upset.”

“Then what happened?”

“After we talked for a few minutes I thought he was sufficiently calmed and would go back to sleep. I laid down and told him to do the same.”

“And did he?”

Frodo answered slowly. “No. At least not right at that moment. He said he had to go to the privy and he would be right back. I did not think anything of it at the time.” He sighed. “I confess I was feeling cross by then and I turned away from him to get some more sleep.”

Aragorn watched Pippin while Frodo spoke. 

Gandalf joined them and laid a hand on the Ringbearer’s shoulder. Frodo smiled, grateful for the contact. He felt unnerved by the events surrounding his usually sweet-tempered cousin.

“Frodo was just telling me about being awakened by Pippin last night.” 

The wizard nodded. “I am aware of this.” Gandalf took a seat on a boulder and beckoned them closer. “I was awakened by your conversation, Frodo. I watched Pippin leave camp--”

“What?” Aragorn frowned.

Gandalf raised a hand and motioned for Aragorn to settle down. “He was followed closely by Legolas. After a time they returned. I do not believe Pippin was aware of Legolas’s presence at the time. He simply climbed back underneath his blanket and went back to sleep. Legolas took my watch and I myself kept an eye on the hobbits for the remainder of the night.”

Aragorn asked, “Do you know if Pippin was fully aware of his actions at the time?”

Gandalf nodded with certainty. “He was awake. It was not a case of night wandering such as our Ringbearer has done.”

Frodo frowned at that and Gandalf chuckled at his discomfiture. “You have been doing well Frodo, do not fret so. Lashing your foot to Samwise’s has proven to be a very helpful device to prevent your sleepwalking, with the exception of the one time, of course.”

“Why have you not mentioned this already, Gandalf? Or Legolas?”

“I had every intention of speaking with you about it, later tonight after we camped. I did not believe it was necessary to do so sooner. As for Legolas, I would imagine his reasoning is similar to mine.”

“I think we need to have a frank conversation tonight. I would like these things brought into the open. From now on, anything the least bit out of the ordinary should be brought up the next morning, before breaking camp. Are we in agreement?”

“Of course.”

Aragorn nodded to Frodo. “Yes?”

“Yes,” Frodo replied.

The Company shared a small repast in near silence. Pippin refused to discuss his emotional outburst with anyone, including Merry, and consumed his food in miserable silence. The other hobbits exchanged occasional worried glances. When they finally arose to resume their journey Merry pulled his cousin to his side.

“Walk with us,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what’s wrong but stay close to me, all right?”

Pippin nodded and allowed Merry’s arm to remain about his shoulders. As they started out he caught Legolas’s eye and pleaded with him silently. The Elf tilted his head, indicating his agreement. Pippin heaved a sigh of relief although his unease was apparent when Aragorn called Legolas away to walk with him at the front of the line.

“Gandalf told me you followed Pippin out of camp last night.” Aragorn kept his voice low.

“Yes. He told Frodo he had been dreaming and he appeared to be upset. I followed him to assure his safety.”

“But you did not let your presence be known.”

“Nay, I could see no reason for it at the time. I merely wanted to be sure he did not go far, and that he made it back without trouble.”

“Is there anything else?”

Legolas thought over his dilemma. If he said too little it would appear he was covering something up. If he said too much, he would break his promise to Pippin. Legolas chose his words carefully. “I could not discern any reason to let Pippin know I was watching him, I simply wished to see to his safety. I planned to continue keeping a close watch on him for any further incidents.”

“What do you believe may be troubling Pippin?”

Legolas continued walking. He did not speak for several moments. “I am not yet certain, but I have been considering his odd behaviour and I feel that whatever is happening is somehow connected to the Ringbearer.”

“What do you mean?”

“Pippin and Frodo share a strong kinship. They are cousins, of course, which counts for more among hobbits than among men or Elves, but their friendship is a closer one than most, I believe. It may very well be that Pippin’s heart feels the turmoil of Frodo’s spirit, and he is speaking and acting in a way that Frodo cannot.”

Legolas paused and cast a quick glance back at the others. Reassuring himself they remained out of earshot he resumed. “Aragorn, you are yourself aware that strong are the heart-cords of close kindred. It is possible that Pippin may be feeling Frodo’s burden.” 

“You mean that Pippin is acting on Frodo’s fears? That his heart understands all the feelings his cousin is hiding and he is giving expression to them for him?”   
Legolas nodded slowly. “I think that is a possibility.” Legolas hesitated before adding, “As the youngest of our Company he has much growing yet to do, and like his kin, he is being confronted with many things beyond his ken for the first time. There is a large amount of uncertainty in his mind.” 

“All of the hobbits are facing things they never have before. Why Pippin?” 

“I do not know the answer to that. Perhaps it will be revealed to us soon.” Perhaps after I convince him to tell you about the voices, he thought. Legolas tried to push the other possibility out of his mind—that Pippin was hearing the insidious whispers of the Ring. He hated to think of what dreadful things it was constantly saying to Frodo, and he hated even more to imagine that it was aiming its malice at the youngest of their Company. Yet for some reason, his heart told him that it was something else besides the Ring itself. . .

***  
The remainder of the day progressed without event as they continued to climb the mountainous pass. As evening approached Legolas went off to scout a place of rest. Gandalf touched Aragorn’s shoulder lightly and tilted his head towards the gradually darkening sky.

“I know.” The Ranger’s voice was low. “We can only hope that Legolas is able to find an exceptional shelter for us tonight.” The two walked in companionable silence for a time. “Gandalf, what do you think ails Pippin? Do you think his behaviour the past week has anything to do with having bad dreams?”

The wizard sighed. “I’m not certain as of yet. Something is troubling him. Perhaps it is because he is concerned about Frodo. Remember, Pippin was the one Frodo attacked in his sleep during one of his night terrors.” Gandalf considered the episode that occurred several days prior. “However, I believe he bears watching as much as Frodo.”

“That is certain.”

“Perhaps I can convince him to talk to me.”

Aragorn glanced over his shoulder at the trailing hobbits that were being closely followed by Boromir and Gimli. He rubbed at his chin. “I do not know. He is not even talking to Merry at the moment.”

“We shall see. Perhaps I can convince him to share what is troubling him when the moment is right.”

They both looked up as the sound of laughter drifted to them. Relief flooded Aragorn’s face when he noticed his companions had managed to create some frivolity and dispense with the melancholia.

Frodo and Sam had begun telling funny stories as they trudged up the hill in an attempt to lighten the mood. After a time they’d managed to coax Pippin out of his doldrums and Merry began to relax as he joined in. Even Boromir and Gimli were enjoying the tales of life in the Shire. 

As the mood grew lighter so did Pippin’s cares and he was finally able to put some of his fears from his restless mind. Even the dreams were temporarily forgotten as he eagerly joined in the storytelling. As the day approached its end the atmosphere amongst them appeared normal once more. The group’s attention was drawn to the forefront when they spotted Legolas returning from his scouting. Merry trotted ahead, eager to hear what the shouting was about. 

Pippin lagged behind purposefully and his hand sought the smooth pebbles in his pocket. He smiled feeling strangely calmed as he ran his fingers across the surface of the glowing stones. He suppressed a giggle when Merry glanced over his shoulder and favoured him with a questioning look. Pippin raised an eyebrow in innocence and stilled his hand, and soon his cousin’s interest returned to the scene ahead.

Pippin scooped the stones out of his pocket and gazed down at them in wonder. He was startled to find they had grown very warm and were shining more brightly than ever. His attention was captivated by their bluish glow, and as he stared into them he was certain the colours had begun to swirl in an azure rainbow. Pippin’s eyes grew wide as he beheld the odd sight and as he watched, spellbound, he heard the sighing whispers. 

Peregrin. . .

The surprise nearly caused him to spill the handful of pebbles onto the ground. His head jerked up in time to see Merry sprinting towards him, urging him to stop lingering. Pippin quickly deposited his secret treasure back into his breeches pocket.

“What are you doing? Hurry up! Legolas is back. Maybe he found a good place for us to sleep tonight.” Merry grabbed his cousin’s arm and tugged on it. Pippin was too caught up in his astonishment to be annoyed and trotted along obediently beside him.

“Look! Up ahead. Just to the side of that large jagged outcropping,” Aragorn’s excitement was contagious and they looked where he pointed.

Pippin lifted his gaze to the gray sky and grinned when he saw what Aragorn was pointing at. The hobbits all hurried to catch up when they realised a cavern had been located for shelter. Sam could not contain his excitement when he realised they would be spending a comfortable night with a warm fire again.

“At last,” he breathed, his relief plain on his wind-chapped features. He grinned happily at Frodo and trotted through the snow as fast as his legs would allow. 

The revelry was infectious and the others quickly expressed gratitude to their scout. Legolas acknowledged the gratitude with his usual aplomb.

“Come! Let us get the wood from Bill’s pack and start the fire. We are all chilled to the bone,” Aragorn directed.

“Right away!” The hobbits’ cries of agreement rose and they hurried about to set up camp. Sam gathered rocks to create a border for the fire while Frodo piled the wood that his cousins supplied.

“It will be so welcome to have a warm fire tonight! It has been, what Sam, almost a week since we have had a truly decent place to rest?” Frodo asked.

“Aye, it’s funny how you can learn to be grateful for the things we used to take for granted.”

“That is certainly very true, my lads.” The wizard eased himself to the ground and began removing items from his pack. “We are very fortunate to find this place. “It will be a blessing to have relief from the cold for a short time.”

“I couldn’t agree more!” Gimli strolled past the group and dropped his things inside the entrance to the cave. He stooped to peer back into its depths. “Why, it’s quite deep! That is a surprise, now. Who would be thinking we’d happen upon such a nice place again so soon?”

“So soon? What are you talking about, Gimli? It’s been forever since we’ve had a decent place to sleep.” Sam shook his head in disbelief.

“And a warm fire!” Merry sighed happily.

“That’s true enough, but I was comparing this place to the wonderful cavern we found before we started up the mountain. We certainly haven’t had a place this comfortable since then.”

“Gimli is correct.” Aragorn strode into the shelter and dropped an armload of wood near the pyre of stone Sam was building. “We have our exceptionally keen eyed Elf to thank for this.” He grinned at Legolas who smiled slightly.

“Yes, and we humbly thank you.” Boromir said as he walked past, depositing his own load of wood near the small pit.

“Indeed we do, Master Greenleaf.” Gandalf sat on the boulders just inside the entrance and began taking inventory of the supplies being placed on the ground. Frodo carried some of the items to Sam as the gardener fed the fire with slivers of dry wood.

Legolas accepted their praise without a word. Instead, he stooped and inspected the dark recesses. “I believe it would be wise if we were to explore further back into the cave before the night falls. While I did go back a ways, I did not spare the time for as thorough an inspection as is warranted.”

“Gimli, would you care to join us?” Aragorn spoke as he readied a torch. “Boromir, will you stay with the others?” 

Boromir waved them on their way as he busied himself with the fire, assisting Sam with laying the wood out and readying the pit.

Aragorn lit a torch, leading the Elf and Dwarf into the increasing blackness in the far tunnel of the cave.

Frodo listened intently as their voices faded away and then went to stand at the cavern’s entrance, gazing out into the surrounding landscape. Merry joined him and stood by quietly for a moment before speaking.

“Something on your mind?” Merry extended an arm and placed it around Frodo’s thin shoulders.

Frodo met and held his cousin’s eyes for a moment before answering. He indicated the sky. “A great many clouds are forming in the distance. It looks like it will soon be snowing.” He rubbed at his left shoulder and smiled at Merry ruefully. “It seems I can always tell when bad weather is approaching these days, thanks to this.”

“Ah, just like Granda and his old bones,” Merry chuckled. “Now there is one hobbit who can always tell what kind of weather is coming.”

“Pity he isn’t here now. Perhaps he could help us figure out whether it is wise to stay put or move on.” Gandalf joined them.

Merry looked puzzled. “Why?”

The wizard leaned over and peered out at the sky with a frown before answering. “Simply because it is often difficult to know what the best decision is, Meriadoc. There is obviously more foul weather approaching, but just how much of a storm there will be is difficult to forecast.” Gandalf released a sharp sigh. “The mountain weather feels uncertain. Perhaps this will blow over by morning, or perhaps we will awaken to a mighty storm. Either way, there is precious little we can do about it.”


	6. Obsession

“Obsession”

 

The shadows persisted. He held his breath in anticipation of the voices; they were like music, though harsh and discordant. Fear. Fear more profound than anything he could ever describe in words. It gripped him, squeezed his heart as he in turn crushed the Ring between his fingers, feeling its iciness, its hardness, its unrelenting presence. His heart beat in his throat, its rhythm increasing until he could feel the pounding in both sides of his head. Stunned, he put forth his hand and released the Ring, watching it descend into a great dark abyss. Its golden glow retreated from view like the tail of a kite being summoned into the clouds overhead. Fascinated, his heart swelled with the joy of being free of his burden. The elation was short-lived. An oppressive silence rushed in to fill the space created by his loss, leaving him deaf. He pressed his hands to either side of his head as he was forced to his knees by the weight of the misery that threatened to crush him. Heaviness in his hand demanded his attention. He extended his fingers and stared at the Ring that once again rested in his palm, an iridescent light emanating from its center. It had returned to him, unbidden. He eyed it with renewed interest, fascinated by the changing colours. And then the voices came and sang their song of hope, and light. He stared at the Ring and was startled to find it had transformed into a small, glowing stone of the purest blue. . .Frodo smiled.

***

Darkness. . .and light. A never-ending absurdity. A crescendo of singing voices calling out his name. He raised his head and listened. They no longer mocked him. He smiled his relief and drifted towards the music. Answering the voices, he drew closer to them. The stones pulsated with warmth. He raised his hand and stared, mesmerized by the constant swirl of colour. He embraced numberless shades of blue in his fingers! The colours spoke to him. Fascinated, he raised the stones to his ear and listened. He heard them, tasted them. Smelled them. The voices of colour swirled and he was caught up in a great turquoise cloud. He floated along reveling in its warmth, its nurturing touch. Abruptly, a lone voice demanded his attention. Listening closely he become aware of beseeching, nay wailing, from afar. He whirled, distraught. One was missing! One called to him fiercely, commanding him to reunite it with the others. He ached with the loneliness. The voices grew more insistent. He moved slowly, woodenly, coming to the edge of an endless abyss. He stared into the blackness yearning to move back into the light, but was held there against his will. Ice caressed his palm, like the touch of death from some distant land. Reluctantly he opened his hand to reveal. . .The One Ring. Pippin moaned in fear.

***

The Ring called out to him, demanding he retrieve it, beckoning him down into the void. He stared at the bright stone resting on his palm, his eyes flickered towards the crevasse, but he turned his back, determined to walk away. The voice rose to a threatening howl. He shuddered, pressing his hands to his ears once more. The effort was wasted. The Ring laid claim to his very soul. Wearily he reversed direction and placed one foot in front of the other, coming at last to the edge of the bottomless pit. One more step and he no longer felt the solid ground beneath his feet. He plunged endlessly, mouth stretched open in a silent scream. . .

***

Frodo shot to a sitting position in one quick movement, struggling to catch his breath and barely preventing the shout of despair from bursting forth. He struggled to orient himself to his surroundings and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead with a shaky hand. The pounding of his heart slowed and he took a deep breath, shuddering in the darkness for several long moments. Something prickled at the edge of his awareness, tickling uncomfortably at his senses. Something was amiss. Turning slowly he blanched when he caught sight of his young cousin sitting nearby, staring straight at him and yet unseeing. Frodo abruptly released the breath and then drew another. Carefully, he leaned over and whispered.

“Pippin.”

There was no response.

Frodo tried again, more insistently. “Pippin!”

Pippin did not move. It was difficult to tell that he was even breathing.

Alarmed, Frodo leaned closer intending to shake his cousin. The leather tie attaching him to Sam’s ankle halted him, and he cursed. He reached down to untie it and immediately wakened his ever-present guardian.

Sam stirred and sat up, scrubbing at his eyes. “What’s wrong, Mr Frodo?”

“Sam, look at Pippin.” Frodo nodded in his cousin’s direction as he continued struggling with the knot.

Sam leaned over and studied Pippin closely. The young hobbit sat rigidly straight, both hands clutched into tight fists. He turned back quickly and helped Frodo untie the lacing that connected them. “Do you think he’s all right?”

Free at last, Frodo crawled to him and waved a hand in front of the glazed eyes. Pippin did not respond. Merry stirred at the commotion and raised himself up on one elbow. He watched Sam and Frodo in confusion for a moment and then saw Pippin.

“What’s going on?” Merry threw back his blanket, alarmed.

His whisper was enough to attract the attention of the elf standing guard at the entrance to the cave. Legolas hurried over to them, his concern apparent.

“What’s the matter with Pippin?” Merry was up now. 

Legolas knelt next to the hobbit and also waved a hand in front of the staring eyes. “He remains fast asleep.” He twisted around to look at the others. “Perhaps he is dreaming.”

Frodo shuddered at the mention of dreams, recalling what had awakened him. “Yes,” he agreed. “That may be so.”

“What should we do? Should we wake Strider or Gandalf?”

Legolas studied Pippin’s unmoving form for another moment. “No Sam,” he said. “No. I believe he is well. Let us help him lay down again and see what happens.” 

The Elf gently moved Pippin back down in the bed of blankets and Merry covered him. His eyes slowly closed of their own accord and his whole body relaxed. They breathed a sigh of relief. Merry lay down beside him and placed a protective arm around his younger cousin. 

“I’ll watch over him, Legolas.” 

“All right. I will be nearby if you need me.”

Frodo nodded, comforted by this knowledge and sank down next to Sam and Pippin. Sam hastened to replace the leg binding. It was a long while before they slumbered once more, even longer for Merry who lay awake thinking hard. Sighing, he moved about restlessly trying to settle into a more comfortable position. His arm had fallen asleep and he raised it and shook the feeling back into it. Once again he struggled to find a more accommodating angle and still keep a hand on Pippin. He moved carefully for the third time, trying not to disturb the others.

“Ouch!” Merry swore softly and sat up. He reached underneath his leg and pulled out a small stone caught in the blanket between them. He eyed it curiously for a moment and was about to toss it away when he paused to take a closer look at it. He smiled, intrigued by its brilliant color. He’d never seen a stone so blue! Merry deposited the pebble into his pocket. Pippin would be fascinated by it. He’d give it to him in the morning and perhaps it would help to lighten his mood. He nestled into his cousin’s side once more and was able to drift off at last.

Legolas paced soundlessly about the perimeter of the campsite. The little ones had quieted at last and a peaceful calm had settled over the group. He puzzled over Pippin’s actions. Something was amiss. He could feel it. Shadows flickered in his mind, gray ominous warnings like harbingers of danger yet to come. Could it have anything to do with the voices? He was certain Pippin continued to hear them. He must reveal what he knew to Aragorn. Although it really was precious little, it might shed some light on what was troubling Pippin and perhaps adding to his unpredictable behaviour. He would try once more to convince the hobbit to reveal the mysterious voices to the rest of the Company. If he continued to refuse Legolas would be forced to act regardless of Pippin’s feelings.

Legolas was startled from his musing by a soft noise. He spun around and automatically reached for his knife, studying the gloom. He saw nothing out of order. Slowly he lowered his arm. All remained quiet, tranquil. The gentle snoring of several of their party brought a brief smile to his lips. Even Gimli was quiet. That thought almost made him chuckle aloud. Legolas resumed his pacing. His thoughts turned again to the events of the past few days. He was lost in deep thought when he heard a soft rustling nearby and felt a gentle touch brush his cheek. He whirled, instantly guarded, and raised his weapon again. . .but saw nothing. The Elf froze for several long moments, his keen ears straining into the darkness that surrounded him. The glowing embers of their low campfire provided a small amount of light. He beheld only the sleeping forms of his companions littering the cavern floor.

Legolas slowly let out the breath he had been holding, consciously attempting to still his pounding heart. Just as he was becoming convinced he had imagined everything he heard a delicate musical voice whisper his name.

Legolasss…

The Elf hesitated for the briefest of moments, and then reacted like the well-trained warrior he was. Grabbing a torch he alerted the others with a shout as he fled past the slumbering forms toward the darkness. 

The Ranger was on his feet rapidly, instantly awake, and the rest of the company soon followed. Confusion reigned amongst the startled hobbits as they leaped to their feet, small swords at the ready. Gimli was already close on the heels of the wizard as they sprinted after the Elf’s lead.

“What was that all about?” Aragorn sank onto a boulder and lowered his sword to the ground beside him. He looked askance at Legolas. They had searched the immediate area and then some, and found nothing.   
Legolas stopped his restless pacing and turned questioning eyes in Aragorn’s direction. “I heard a voice. It said my name.” Legolas’s quiet tone held a note of hesitation.

“What?” Aragorn glanced quickly at Gandalf before turning back to stare at the elf. 

“Well, it does not appear anyone has joined us! Perhaps you nodded off for a while?”

Legolas frowned. “I did not ‘nod off’.” He looked at each of his companions in turn. “And I did not imagine anything. I heard a distinct voice speak my name, and I felt the soft brush of fingers against my face.”

Frodo shivered. He drew his knees up to his chin and encircled his legs with both arms, drawing himself into a tight hug. He placed his chin on his knees and his gaze wandered around the group. Pippin had pulled himself into an identical pose but was rocking to and fro, the way he always did when frightened or anxious. He did not look at anyone. Instead, he stared straight ahead. 

“Well, what do you think it was then?” Boromir wrinkled his brow. 

“What exactly did it sound like?” Aragorn leaned forward. “Try to remember the voice,” he urged.

“I do not have any difficulty in recalling it.” The elf spoke in his customary soft tone. “Indeed, it is clear in my memory. It was very tranquil, harmonious,” he said softly. “Musical somehow. The voice sang my name. I could not tell whether it was female or male. It seemed to be both…and yet neither.” He sighed and looked back at Aragorn. “The voice did not frighten me. However, the gentle caress to my face was unnerving.”

Gimli snorted. “The Elf has a gift for understatement!”

Legolas chose to ignore Gimli. Instead, he focused on Pippin, who had lifted his head to listen. He caught Pippin’s eye and raised an eyebrow in question. Pippin blanched and looked away guiltily. The brief exchange did not go unnoticed by the keen-eyed wizard. Legolas refused to let the hobbit ignore him.

“What do you think, Pippin?” 

“What?” Pippin’s voice was muffled as he dipped his head lower still between his knees.

“About my experience,” Legolas persisted.

Everyone except Gandalf observed this exchange in bewilderment.

“I don’t have an opinion.”

“Well, that is a first,” Boromir chuckled. “Come Pippin. Surely you have something to say.”

The hobbit was silent. Merry crept close and put an arm around his shaking cousin. Pippin flinched. Merry glanced at Frodo, disquiet flickering in his eyes. 

Aragorn spoke quietly. “It may be the sorcery of Saruman. He seeks to frighten us.” The Ranger glanced around the group. “I recommend we do our best to put this aside for now and resume our rest. It will not help to become overtired and further lower our defenses.”

“I agree. No harm has come to anyone. Perhaps some more sleep is just what we need.” Boromir stood and reached for his weapon. “I will volunteer to take the next watch.”

“Nay, mine is not yet over and Aragorn is next. I will finish my watch.” Legolas headed for the front of the cave.

Boromir watched him go. “I did not mean any disrespect.”

“Of course not,” Aragorn murmured. He raised his voice, “Legolas, perhaps you should take some rest now. I will start my watch.”

Legolas shook his head and turned away.

“Well, I am wide awake now. I would just as soon take the watch myself,” Gimli grumbled.

“I have another hour and I will see it through. But I thank you for the offer.”

Aragorn said, “It would seem the matter has been decided. Let us keep to our original schedule.”

“Come,” Frodo motioned to his fellow hobbits.

They returned to their bedding. Pippin hurriedly pulled his head beneath the covers and rolled into a tight ball. Merry watched him for a moment, sympathy warring with a sudden urge to laugh. The action reminded him of a turtle retreating from unfriendly eyes. He lay down and draped an arm across his cousin in an attempt to comfort him. Pippin did not shrug him off. 

Sam reattached the leather tie to his foot, handing the other end to Frodo. “It seems to me they all want to stay up, don’t it now?”

Frodo nodded. “I do not know how well any of us are going to sleep.” He lay back. “Although I do seem to be resting better than I was. And it’s harder to wake up.” Frodo considered this revelation. Hmm, it was odd, he thought. Just why am I sleeping better tonight, not to mention more heavily than before? I was so groggy when I woke up. It reminds me of the time Bilbo gave me the soporific when I had that long bout of insomnia many years ago, right after I came to live with him. Frodo drifted off at last, still mulling it over.

Pippin laid thinking over what had happened, certain Legolas wasn’t going to keep his secret much longer. Was the Elf hearing the same voices? Legolas’s description made it seem likely. What was he going to do? Oh, the dreams! The dreams were growing more vivid and frightening. He was beginning to feel increasingly out of control and he hated it. Pippin fretted over his situation. Should I tell Aragorn or Gandalf? Merry? Frodo? I don’t want to tell anyone! 

Pippin pulled his head further beneath the blankets. His hand snaked into his pocket to withdraw the stones, intending to comfort himself with their warmth. He bolted upright. Two were missing! His dream came flooding back and Pippin felt his fear and anger rising to a frenzied level. He resisted the urge to scream out his frustration by stuffing his knuckles into his mouth and biting down. He winced, tasting blood.

“What’s wrong Pip?” Merry struggled to sit up and Sam and Frodo turned sleepily to look at him.

Pippin sat frozen in place, his mind racing. He knew he couldn’t explain what he was upset about. He certainly wouldn’t be allowed to go roaming about in the night looking for his lost treasure. He took a deep breath as he removed his hand and stuck it back under the blanket still clutching the remaining stones. I’ll have to slip away and look for them tomorrow. 

“Nothing,” he muttered. “Just having trouble getting comfortable.” He chuckled, although there was absolutely no humor in the sound. “Go back to sleep.” Pippin flopped over on his stomach after storing the two remaining pebbles back in his pocket, unaware that Merry was staring at his back trying to piece together more of the riddle of his younger cousin’s behaviour.

Merry was awake for a long time thinking over the events of the last several days. He suddenly remembered the little blue stone he had retrieved from their blankets that morning. Feeling in his pocket he carefully withdrew the tiny treasure and held it up to the firelight. Curious. It was warm. Warmer than his pocket should have caused it to be. It was a brilliant sapphire that nestled in the palm of his hand now, not a simple pebble. The color seemed to intensify the longer he stared at it. The blue became more spectacular and appeared to pulsate with life. Merry grinned in delight. Maybe he wouldn’t give it to Pippin. Not just yet anyway. He felt strangely drawn to it. He fell asleep with it cradled close to his ear, marveling at the delicate tones emanating from it, captivated.

Morning dawned bleak and gray and very cold. The wind had picked up during the night and the front of the cave was filled with snow. As they gazed out into the morning gloom it was obvious that the storm had developed into a true blizzard. A great curtain of white blanketed the landscape and it was impossible to see further than a few inches ahead.

“Well, it appears we’re going nowhere, isn’t that so Strider?”

The Company stood at what little remained of an opening to their shelter. The snow that had fallen during the night buried the entrance so only a small access to the outside world remained. Frodo shivered, drawing his cloak more tightly to his throat. He didn’t know if the chill he felt was a result of the weather or of the dark, cold feelings he harbored in his soul. Feelings that grew stronger with every passing day. His sense of disquiet had grown so that he sometimes felt as if it were shouting at him aloud. They had been confined here only one night and already his restlessness was nearly overwhelming.

“Quite right, Sam,” Aragorn laid his hand on Sam’s shoulder. 

The Company gathered around the fire to share the first meal of the day and Aragorn began to make plans. “Gandalf and I have discussed what we are going to do next, so when we finish eating we had best put our time to good use. I think the cave pool is a good place to begin. We’ll form an exploration party. Some of us will gather food and water. And several of us should go deeper for a more thorough investigation. Gandalf has offered to remain here and keep the fire going. Sam, perhaps you could help with that and see to Bill as well. He will require some exercise. Do the best you can.”

“Aye Strider, I know. I’ll take care of Bill and help Gandalf too.”

Aragorn looked at the other hobbits. “You three may try to catch fish and fill water containers. Boromir, will you help with that?”

“Of course!” He grinned and placed an arm around Pippin’s shoulders and squeezed. “Well, Pip. Together again, are we?”

Pippin smiled hesitantly up at the man. Boromir had a kind way about him and Pippin always felt secure when he was near. He rummaged in his pocket for the precious stones. He frowned, recalling that two had gone missing. His dreams came flooding back to fill his memory with deafening clarity. How could he have lost two of them?

“What’s wrong?” Boromir noticed the change of expression immediately. 

Pippin recovered quickly. “Nothing!” 

“Legolas, Gimli, and I will each explore different areas of the caverns. If we are confined here for awhile it will be important to know our surroundings.” Aragorn regarded the entire company sternly. “My friends, I realise you are already aware of this but I believe it bears repeating. We cannot be too cautious. There will likely be many dead end passages and openings in unexpected places. We may also encounter animals, and possibly bats and large insects. Perhaps even other and more unexpected things. Be certain to mark your way wherever you may venture while we are here. It would be frightfully easy to get lost in this place. Go slowly and watch your footing at all times. Shall we start now?” 

The Ranger lifted his torch high and began leading the way down the narrow path behind their campsite and into the next section of the cave. When they reached the water Boromir eased across piles of loose rock with his charges, while Gimli turned in the opposite direction.

Legolas gestured to Aragorn and the pair headed away from the others in order to speak privately before going any farther.

“I do not know if this is important but something rather curious happened with Pippin last night while I stood watch.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow in question. “Something else happened? I thought the one incident was quite strange enough.”

“This occurred before I heard the voice. Frodo woke and found Pippin sitting up nearby. His eyes were wide open and staring at him, yet he appeared to be fast asleep. Frodo offered that he had been dreaming and was awakened by a nightmare. He was quite taken aback to find his cousin in such a state. ”

“Hmm, I do not wonder.” Aragorn rubbed his chin thoughtfully “That is odd.” He shook his head. “Well, at least Frodo did not go wandering. The herb I placed in his meal must have calmed him, as I had hoped. But we’ll need to keep a close watch on Pippin. At the very least, his attitude seems a bit better this morning.” Aragorn turned to head in the opposite direction. “Let us meet here in one hour.” 

Legolas picked his way down the narrow corridor, carefully inspecting his surroundings. While he continued to dislike enclosed spaces, the breathtaking beauty of the cavern never ceased to astound him. Though they had explored little of this place thus far what he had seen was extraordinary. Brilliant colours lighted several of the walls, evidence of former running water and mineral deposits of every description. Huge stalagmites rose from the floor, their forms striking queer poses in the eerie flickering light of his torch. Some joined with the equally large stalactites descending from the ceiling. They looked like great icicles, ones that would never melt. Icicles that had taken many thousands of years to form, and still they grew.

Legolas reflected as he explored, his thoughts turning back to the unusual behaviour of the youngest hobbit. Conversation centering around the halflings’ families usually brought smiles and laughs and pleasant reminiscing. What was it about Pippin’s aunt that had upset him so? Pippin had admitted to hearing something. Admitted it and then begged him to keep quiet. Now it seemed he was hearing it too.

Legolas puzzled over his encounter with Pippin by the water, the day he had fled into the woods. Pippin had seemed to be listening carefully to something no one else heard. He recalled the way Pippin had carefully placed his hands in the water as if seeking to find. . .what? He wondered if the voices Pippin heard had anything to do with his angry outbursts and odd behaviours. When he had suggested just that yesterday Pippin had become panic-stricken. But something else nudged at the back of Legolas’s thoughts, begging to be known. Strangely enough, the memory eluded him.

Intuitive bonds between kin were a truth in his own culture. Legolas grew more convinced that whatever was happening had something to do with the Ringbearer and his burden. Perhaps Pippin’s youth played a part, however, Legolas did not feel it was of much significance. It was obvious that he was unusually sensitive to the feelings of others. Was Pippin’s heart telling him to take the Ringbearer’s burden upon himself?

The Elf paused, holding the torch high in order to better illuminate the area around him. Having gone a fair distance down the passageway Legolas saw it was leading downward at a sharp slope. He began to step more cautiously, stopping quickly after kicking a loose stone and hearing it drop away into a deep hole along the path in front of him. Legolas held his light close to the floor and gasped when he realised how close he had come to stepping into it. By the stars! It was a moment before he could breathe comfortably again. The descent was angular and he saw now that it was not a sheer drop, but a severe one nevertheless. Leaning over, he attempted to see to the bottom. Only the darkness met his eyes and Legolas backed carefully away. He decided to return to the meeting place rather than attempting to explore any further. The near miss had unnerved him more than he cared to admit.

***

Boromir cheerfully took charge of his little party of halflings. Handing out arrows to each of them he pointed at the water. “All right, let us go fishing!”

They all scrambled down to the edge of the water and set about their task. It was not all that difficult to spear the cavefish and Sam was quick to catch on after watching Boromir. 

Pippin appeared nervous, glancing around as if searching for a lost object. 

Frodo wandered over to him, his curiosity aroused. “What are you up to?” He kept his tone casual.

Pippin started and turned around to eye him cautiously. “I’m not up to anything. What makes you ask?” He fidgeted with the arrow, turning it this way and that as he studied the ground. “Why do you always think I’m up to something?” 

Frodo decided not to push. He squatted down at the water’s edge and scanned the surface. “I imagine there are plenty of fish to be had. Look!” He pointed at Sam. “Sam already has caught several.”

Pippin did not respond. He was twisting the arrow even more anxiously now as he scanned the water’s edge. Frodo had seldom seen Pippin so distracted. He considered taking the arrow away from him lest he harm himself. 

Merry had followed and stood hesitantly nearby, watching them. He pointed at Boromir who was already detaching several of the pale blind cavefish from his makeshift spear and stringing them together. “Looks like Boromir found a good spot.” 

Pippin was obviously ignoring him. He turned his back and inched out into the stream, sullenly stabbing at the water with his arrow. Merry sighed. Obviously Pippin was growing moody again.

Frodo drew him into a quick hug. “It’ll be all right. He’ll get over it.”

“It’s not like Pip to hold a grudge. I’m worried about him.” Merry watched as their cousin picked his way further out in the water. “He hasn’t mentioned what happened last night,” he mused. “Do you think he even remembers?”

Frodo watched as Pippin wandered further away. “I don’t know.”

“How long do you think we’re going to be trapped in this cave?” Merry glanced about uneasily. “I don’t like it.”

Frodo shrugged. “At the very least we’ll be here until the storm lets up. Come,” Frodo handed him an additional arrow and gestured for Merry to follow. “I don’t know how long we’ll be here but I do know one thing.”

Merry looked at him questioningly.

“The longer it takes, the harder it will be on all of us.” Frodo spoke quietly. “We need to get moving. Being confined here only makes it harder. As for myself, I feel as though I’m ready to explode at times. Being here for any length of time is going to take all my will to handle.” He nodded at Pippin. “And it only gives Pippin more time to stew over whatever is bothering him. You know he’s never liked being cooped up.”

***  
“Gandalf?” 

The wizard glanced up from the fire. He rested a hand on the pony’s back as he regarded Sam with a little smile. “Yes?”

“Do you think we’ll be stuck here for long?”

Gandalf moved to the cavern’s entrance and gazed out through the small opening before replying. “That depends on a number of things.”

Sam eyed him, puzzled. “Begging your pardon, but on what? Other than the weather of course.”

“Oh. Time will tell, Samwise.”

Sam frowned at the cryptic answer and decided not to inquire any further. He busied himself with grooming the pony, all the while mulling over the events of the last few days. He very much wished to discuss the experience Legolas had last night but wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

Gandalf settled by the fire with his pipe and watched Sam out of the corner of his eye. Something strange was about, that much was certain. He’d felt it first just before they’d begun the climb up the mountain. Hmm. Yes, Pippin had been acting like he was trying to hide something that day they were collecting the wood. Literally? He’d wondered it then too. Did the lad actually have something in his possession that he didn’t want seen? Or had he been up to some other sort of mischief making? Either way did it have anything to do with what was happening now? 

The wizard frowned as he thought about the youngster’s moodiness and anger. While it was true Pippin was a highly-strung young hobbit, like many Took’s, he was never malicious or sullen. Yes, he was known to pout occasionally, only to be expected from one who had been the baby of his family. But he was normally of a sunny nature and very quick to recover when his feelings were hurt, and to forgive those that had hurt him. He was also quick to apologise when he knew he was in the wrong. Indeed, Pippin’s behaviour was puzzling and unlike him.

And Frodo. . .His mind wandered to Frodo’s nighttime activities. Samwise was noticeably upset with Frodo’s nocturnal adventures and that was to be expected. Nothing was unusual there. The voice Legolas had heard was truly bewildering and he thought this over at length. Legolas would not overreact, nor was he prone to allowing his imagination to run wild. Therefore, he had definitely heard something. Yet in searching they had found nothing. Gandalf considered ancient legends involving the hearing of voices and other soothsayers’ myths. Only one thought occurred to him, but no, it was too soon to even consider such a thing. He would think on it harder before musing in that direction.

The wizard sighed as he thought about Aragorn. Aragorn was locked in a battle of wills with Frodo, determined to make him see that he could not submit to the Ring or all would be lost. Gandalf did not think Frodo was submitting to the Ring. He had been accepted as Ringbearer because Gandalf believed, and continued to believe, that Frodo had the strength to resist its will. However, the manner of the Ring’s assaults seemed to be different now.

Frodo was angry about having his foot fixed to Sam’s on a nightly basis because he felt Aragorn did not understand. That had worked out well until he had begun untying the lash and wandering away until Aragorn had been forced to take action. Last night he’d slipped a sleeping herb into Frodo’s evening meal. Deceitful yes, but it was a necessary precaution. The seriousness of the matter had come to a head when they had been forced to remain in this cavern. With a raging blizzard outside they simply could not take the chance that Frodo might wander out into it. 

When exactly did everything start feeling so odd? He allowed his mind to travel back, carefully combing over the events of the past week one by one. He recalled first noticing the oddness when Pippin had displayed the eagerness to get back to a much disliked chore. They were camped by a lake, collecting food and wood, and washing their clothing before beginning the long trek up the snow covered terrain. The lads had halted their work to get up to a bit of a game with Boromir. Gandalf smiled at the memory in spite of himself. He had started to join them in order to get them back on task and Pippin had hurried away from him. When he’d come upon Pippin and Merry in the woods a short while later Pippin was trying to appear innocent. He might have even fooled anyone who was not as familiar with Took’s. Gandalf puzzled over his memories. Both sleeves of the hobbit’s shirt had been wet, the right one drenched way up past his elbow, he recalled. He had been baffled about it at the time but had been distracted and thought no more of it. The hobbit had obviously been playing about in the water again when he’d just been admonished to get back to the business at hand. Just what would have made him dip his hands and arms into the freezing water? Perhaps he was reading too much into it. Gandalf’s thoughts wandered back to that day as he refilled his pipe.


	7. When Darkness Summons

“When Darkness Summons”

 

Pippin listened to his cousins’ quiet conversation. He knew they were talking about him. Well, let them, he thought. He was more concerned with finding his lost stone at the moment. He mentally retraced his steps since entering the cavern as he wandered about in the water pretending to care about catching fish. He was certain he’d had all four when they’d made camp. 

Pippin sighed, stabbing half-heartedly at one of the pasty fish as it swam between his feet. His temper flared and he lunged, attempting to snatch the creature from the water. It slipped through his fingers and darted away. Pippin watched it go, chewing on his lip. A thought occurred to him. Could the stones have fallen out of his pocket while he was getting a drink? Pippin looked back in the direction of the little waterfall that trickled invitingly between a pair of rocks. Or perhaps when he’d sought privacy to go to the privy? He would begin his search at the waterfall and work his way back to their camp. Pippin saw that Frodo and the others were preoccupied with the fish. He could slip away now and go have a look. 

A flicker in the stream caught his eye as he turned. He plunged his hand eagerly into the shallows to retrieve the largest of the stones he had found thus far! Pippin could hardly contain his excitement but managed to muffle his shout when the others looked his way. He stuffed the stone deep into his pocket and pretended to return to his task; his mind raced. Why, it’s nearly as big as my best shooter marble back home, Pippin thought. He quickly sobered. But where are the other stones? I must find them!

Boromir saw Pippin retrieve something from the water. He puzzled at the young hobbit’s delight in his find. A smile crossed the man’s face. Pippin was always putting things in his pockets. It seemed he had found yet another treasure. Boromir chuckled, returning to his task.

***

“I found another large chamber yonder,” the dwarf pointed over his shoulder with a stubby thumb, “and another pool of water with some remarkable rock formations.”  
“I believe this series of caverns extends well beyond the mountain above us.” Aragorn said. “We might be able to follow it for miles, possibly even find an easier path. We would need to explore further. However, I am not convinced it would be worth the risk at this time.”

Legolas approached and gave a nod. “The path I followed leads to a very steep drop into the lower caverns. We must be certain we remain alert to such treacherous areas.”

Aragorn eyed him with concern. 

“I myself nearly stepped into it,” Legolas answered the unspoken question. “If not for some falling pebbles I would not have seen the crevasse before it was too late.”

“Let’s go mark that passage, then. We’ll not want any accidents.” Gimli led the way. “Even when you’re accustomed to being underground you cannot be too careful.”

“I agree,” Aragorn said.

Boromir held up a long string of fish in triumph as they approached. 

“Excellent. Let us be on our way back.” Aragorn motioned for them to join him. Merry and Frodo were eager to return to the group. Pippin trailed behind. “Come Pippin,” Aragorn beckoned. 

Pippin reluctantly followed the others. He must slip away later on some pretense. The stones seemed to call out to him in some way, like an odd sort of itch that he could not possibly scratch. A sense of urgency prickled at the back of his neck, distracting him.

Pippin shuffled along, his eyes darting warily across the ground. He would search every inch of this cavern if necessary. His mood darkened with annoyance as he berated himself yet again for losing the stones. 

It was Aragorn’s fault, he thought. If he hadn’t got so impatient with me, making me hurry about. I never would have dropped them if I weren’t so distracted! Pippin kicked hard at some loose dirt. A stray shard of rock sailed away, stinging Merry sharply in the rear. 

“Oww!” 

Pippin’s head shot up in surprise at Merry’s shout, and he winced, instantly ashamed of himself. Nevertheless, he couldn’t stop the mischievous grin from spreading across his face when he realised what had happened.

Merry rubbed at his seat and whirled around. Spying Pippin, his eyes narrowed. “That wasn’t funny!”

“What? I didn’t do anything!” Pippin’s chuckle only served to make his cousin angrier.

“You were tossing rocks at me!”

“I was not!”

“Yes, you were!” Merry advanced on his cousin. 

“No, I was not!” 

Merry crossed his arms and looked Pippin up and down. “I think you owe me an apology.”

A myriad of feelings played across Pippin’s face, a reflection of his inner turmoil. A moment of regret prodded at him, but it was soon replaced by annoyance and Pippin shut his mouth on his explanation that it had been an accident. Why should he apologise when he had not meant to do it? Besides, it was funny, he thought. “I think you’re losing your sense of humour.”

Merry’s eyes widened at the taunt. “Oh, really? Well, I think you’re losing your wits, that is, what little you had to begin with.”

Pippin lunged at Merry, taking them all by surprise, and shoved him hard enough to land Merry solidly on his backside. Merry leaped up and came at Pippin, who immediately curled his hands into fists and raised them. Frodo and Sam stared at them in disbelief.

“Stop this nonsense!” Frodo shouted. 

Boromir descended upon Merry and Pippin as the two connected. “Enough!” He yanked them apart and shook each of them in turn. “You will cease this minute!”

Legolas stepped back and caught hold of Pippin’s arm. “Come. We need to talk.”

“That we do,” Pippin hissed, prying ineffectively at the Elf’s fingers. 

Legolas took no notice of the struggle and held him back calmly as he motioned for the others to go on ahead. Frodo tugged Merry away; Merry continued to seethe and toss threatening looks over his shoulder as Frodo hurried him along in the opposite direction.

When they were alone Legolas spun Pippin around to face him. “You must tell Aragorn what has been happening. I will not keep silent another day.”

Pippin tried once more to dislodge the grip on his arm. Legolas released him. 

Pippin jerked away, a dark cloud descending over his usually sunny features. “You followed me that night!” Pippin rubbed his shoulder.

“I did. For your own safety.”

“I didn’t want to be followed! I wanted some time alone!”

“The way is dangerous, you little scoundrel! I could not let you go alone.”

“What makes you think you can do anything you like?”

“I will do whatever needs to be done when it concerns the safety and well-being of this Company.” The Elf pressed his lips into a thin line and stared down at Pippin.  
“Och! Same old excuse,” Pippin spat.

“What is the matter with you? You are clearly not yourself.”

“I’m getting tired of being ordered about, that’s all.”

“No Pippin, I do not think for one moment that is what you are upset about. It is the voices, is it not?”

Pippin raised his brow in mock innocence. “What voices?” Legolas’s eyes widened in disbelief, then narrowed in irritation.

“You will inform Gandalf and Aragorn now.” Legolas snatched him by the shoulders and pushed him ahead. Pippin reacted by digging his heels into the ground but was forced to stumble along despite his protest.

“I shall pick you up and carry you slung over my shoulder if you will not walk on your own.” Legolas bent to carry out his threat. Pippin’s next words brought him to a halt. 

“You’ll be sorry,” Pippin threatened through gritted teeth. “Do you think Aragorn will take kindly to the fact you haven’t already told him what you’ve known for some time?” 

Legolas’s grip loosened in his surprise and Pippin pulled away and turned. “So, go ahead and tell him! You’ll quickly find yourself in the same spot I was in last night. Are you quite certain you want to be disgraced like that?”

“What? Pippin, Aragorn simply suggested you quiet down so everyone could go to sleep. That is all. You have no cause to be so angry with him. ”

Pippin’s eyes took on a strange gleam. “Oh? So, that’s what you believe our conversation was about? Never mind. You haven’t a hint about what is actually going on right under your nose! All right, you go ahead then, and--”

“That will be quite enough Pippin.” Legolas’s voice was cold.

“You know I’m right.” Pippin marched on ahead without looking back. For all his bravado he was, in truth, quaking inside and hoped Legolas would take the bait and back down. Pippin held his breathe, his heart pounding. The silence seemed to stretch on unbearably. Pippin trembled with unease as he waited for the Elf’s reaction. 

Legolas stared at Pippin’s back, considering the plea to keep the secret. For some reason he seemed unable to focus his thoughts. “You are right,” he whispered, “We must keep the secret.”

Pippin laughed, his tone harsh, but Legolas was not aware; an inner voice spoke to him, tickling at the edge of his thought, instructing him which path to take.

“I am willing to give you one more chance,” Legolas said, shaking his head as if waking from a deep sleep. “You must speak to them no later than tomorrow morning, or I shall be forced to.”

Pippin snorted, partially in relief and partly in disgust. “Legolas, if either you or I tell Gandalf and Aragorn now they’ll be irritated with us because we’ve held it back for so long. I need you to trust me. Please don’t make me tell. Not yet.” 

“Well. . .” Legolas hesitated, the prickling at the back of his neck increasing, making him lose focus. He tilted his head as if listening to some faraway voice. Pippin smiled, listening intently, and gave a slight nod. When Legolas became fully aware once more Pippin was watching him with a seemingly innocent look.

Legolas found he had lost track of the conversation. He shook his head and blinked, appearing puzzled. “I am sorry, what did you just say?”

Pippin spoke slowly and deliberately. “We should keep quiet about the voices. Gandalf and Aragorn would not like what we have to say.”

Legolas stared at Pippin for another moment, feeling as if he had to fight to get the words out. “Not for much longer. No matter the consequences. We have to tell the others.”

“I know. I only want more time to think about what I’m going to say. I don’t really understand what the voices mean, after all.” 

Legolas marveled at the constant mood shifts Pippin displayed. He nodded reluctantly. “Agreed. However, no longer than two more days.”

Pippin resumed his covert scanning of the cave floor as soon as Legolas’s back was turned. He felt a disturbing pressure building up inside as the voices in his mind lamented along with him. The stones must all be reunited. The thought pressed on his mind more with each passing moment, prodding him, preying on his guilt. Pippin lingered behind as they approached the turn in the corridor and caught up to their companions. 

Boromir was leading the way to the front of the cavern and slung the string of fish off his shoulder as he headed towards Sam. Legolas glanced curiously at Pippin but continued on his way, concluding that Pippin was still upset when he spied Merry and was reminded of what had happened earlier.

Pippin watched the others retreat into the main cavern. He wasted no time and hurried back to inspect the area. He released a cry of delight as he bent to retrieve the smooth pebble from behind the rock. He puzzled over it for several moments when the stone remained the darkest of blue before shining with the iridescent colors Pippin had grown accustomed to seeing. He gave a sigh of relief and quickly stored it deep in his pocket. Aragorn called to him. Pippin looked around again quickly. Where was the other one? He searched as thoroughly as he could, glancing nervously at the opening into the outer cavern. Where was it? Pippin could linger no longer. He would return later. Trotting away, he tossed one last regretful look over his shoulder before joining the others. 

***

The evening meal was tense. They were keenly aware of the storm outside their shelter; the fierce cold and howling winds mirrored the emotional storm gathering within the cave. The feud between the younger hobbits was unresolved; and the increasing anxiety it caused was palpable. The Company’s patience was wearing thin. 

Gandalf eyed the surly cousins. He had assumed, wrongly it would seem, that the argument between Merry and Pippin had been resolved upon their return. He had made it clear that there were to be no further outbursts. True, they were not verbally sparring. But they were not talking either, and the tension created by the continuous trading of glares and scowls would soon boil over into something more. He puzzled over Merry’s foul mood. It was unlike hobbits to hold a grudge, most especially these two who were normally such friends. He’d been told about the incident with the rock but it didn’t seem sufficient provocation to kindle the level of dismay that Merry was displaying. He could see that Frodo was being strongly affected by his cousins’ foolishness and it was time to end it. He cleared his throat at the same moment Aragorn spoke. Everyone looked up. 

Two faces bore their resignation at the scolding they saw coming. The wizard said nothing as he sat back to listen and Legolas schooled his features into a cool mask of neutrality. “I believe it would be in everyone’s best interest if the two of you would put an end to your nonsense.” Aragorn looked at each of them in turn. Merry glanced his way and then retrieved a stick and stirred the fire glumly, saying nothing. Pippin turned away. 

Frodo had been silent for some time. Now he spoke up. “Aragorn is right. You need to make amends and put this behind you. It serves no purpose save to cause further hard feelings and tension.” Frodo looked around at the group. “For all of us.”

“And that is something we do not need. This situation is quite trying enough for everyone.” Aragorn nodded at Frodo. “At the very least show some consideration for your cousin. He does not need the two of you creating additional hardship.” 

Merry poked harder at the fire with his stick while Pippin stared at the ground. Both remained stubbornly silent. 

Frodo stood and beckoned to his cousins. “Come. Let us have a private discussion.”

Merry scrambled to his feet without hesitation. They waited while Pippin seemed to struggle with himself; rising at last, he trudged after his cousins.

“Well, it looks like this is going to be a family matter,” chuckled Gimli as he reached into his pack and withdrew his pipe.

“So it would seem,” mused Gandalf, watching the hobbits until they were out of sight.

The sound of raised voices was impossible to ignore. Boromir drew a long breath and released it rapidly as he busied himself with preparing his bedroll for the night. Gimli calmly puffed away on his pipe while the wizard prepared his own. Sam watched anxiously for the others to return. Gandalf rested his hand on Sam’s shoulder and spoke softly. 

“Do not fear, Samwise. Frodo knows his cousins well. He will help them resolve their dispute.”

“If you say so, Mr Gandalf.” Sam peered into the gloom. “I wish I could do something to help.”

Legolas rose to pace uneasily at the far side of the cave’s entrance. Aragorn eyed him with curiosity, wondering the reason for Legolas’s disquiet. After all, it was not the first time on their journey that the hobbits had settled matters amongst themselves when a problem arose. 

Frodo returned at last, his cousins in tow. Pippin’s expression was a mask of stone and he went straight to his bedroll and curled up in a ball with his back to the rest of them. Merry wavered, glancing around at the others as if he had something to say. The expression on his face seemed to waver between guilt and resentment.   
“I’m going to lie down,” he said at last. “Good night.” Murmurs of good night followed Merry as he turned away.

“Well, whatever you had to say lad, it appears to have done the trick.” The dwarf did not attempt to conceal his approval. 

Frodo eyed his kin. “Perhaps. I believe I will go to bed as well. I am feeling very sleepy all of a sudden.” He nodded at the others and took his place amongst the bedrolls. Sam moved to join them.

Gandalf leaned over to whisper to Aragorn. “Perhaps you should give him less next time. We would not want him to be truly difficult to awaken should the need arise to move swiftly.” Aragorn nodded.

Lying abed with his back to the others, Pippin fumed silently. He held the stones close to his heart, his eyes slowly growing heavy. The warmth of the stones comforted him and the low singing tones soon lulled him into a deep sleep.

Nearby, Merry had similar thoughts, his sentiment growing stronger and warring with his usual common sense. He was puzzled. True, he was angry at Pippin for his ridiculous display of temper and childish refusal to let it go. But he had done the same and he did not understand why he had allowed Pippin’s actions to goad him into such rash behaviour. Frodo had probably been right to admonish them. But in his discomfiture he railed against what his older cousin had done. Pippin deserved to be put in his place twice as much as he did. Merry’s conscience would not be silenced, nevertheless his indignation felt justified. He dug into his pocket and caressed the smooth pebble. Its warmth comforted him. He withdrew it with a smile, placing it near his ear as he settled down to sleep, relaxing at last.

Boromir studied the hobbits thoughtfully as he stood the first watch. He paced back and forth in the small area as he considered the day’s events. How long will we be trapped here, he wondered? The tension seemed to grow with each passing hour. He could feel it; it was like a living thing. 

This place begged misgivings and suspicion from the staunchest of men. The darkness, the humid dampness coupled with the cold; even the stillness while his companions slumbered seemed ominous. True, there was beauty also: the mystifying patterns created by the ancient flowstone revealing where water had once run freely, the rare formations that Aragorn had called cave pearls, the small pools of water sheathed in basins of stone. Boromir considered the perfectly round rocks they had discovered in the shallow water of the stream. The gleaming stones looked something like the marbles that children played with. Created by years of agitation in the cave waters they formed perfect spheres and resembled pearls of varied colour. A few grew unusually large. At any other time he could have appreciated such wonders so much more.

Boromir’s thoughts wandered to Pippin’s actions while they were catching fish, recalling the little one’s delight in his discovery. He had most likely been admiring the cave pearls as the rest of them had. He had probably found a big one. Pippin had certainly been excited. Boromir shook his head. Too bad they would dissolve upon leaving the cavern’s atmosphere. A faint shuffling caused the Gondorian Captain to spin around, instantly alert. He saw nothing save the prone forms of his companions. As the pounding of his heart stilled Boromir began to pace once more, weapon clutched to his chest. 

He spun again, certain he had heard quiet whispering and quickly inspected his surroundings. Nothing was at hand, and no one stirred amongst his party. Boromir shivered. Was this similar to what Legolas experienced? Or am I simply going mad from the confinement here? Boromir strained his ears for another sound but none came. He peered into the darkness, tense and ready. Several long minutes passed without any further disturbance. He was certain what he had heard was not in his imagination. He watched the Ringbearer, thoughts tumbling restlessly through his mind. The Ring. It had to be the Ring. He shivered again. It was affecting them all.

***

He was lost. He wandered up one long dark tunnel and then down another. Always searching. Each twist and turn left him at yet another dead end. He was becoming so frustrated he was ready to scream out his anguish. It was so dark. He knew there was danger, sensed it with every part of his being. He sought the light, feeling for it with every ounce of his will. But he could not move. He was paralyzed, unable to make known his needs or his terror. Held down unmoving in this deep dark hole, never to behold the light of day again. The scream simply would not come no matter how hard he tried to give it voice. The Ring burned him with a white-hot fire.

The stones screamed, crying out in anguish, stressing their host repeatedly until he rose up out of his bed and walked away from safety. The voices held the attention of the one on guard until he had wandered deeper into the cavern. Another followed without his knowledge…

 

Pippin wandered. He gripped the remaining stones while his mind rambled. Where was the missing spirit? He continued on his way, unsure where to search, what to do, where to go. The voices rose, clamoring, demanding, urging him on. He was helpless to do anything but follow their lead.

***

The morning dawned slowly as it was wont to do in this dismal place. Gray and mournful with a blanket of white permeating the entrance anew. Frodo sat up slowly and stretched. He eyed the Dwarf who now watched over them from the cavern’s entrance and then felt the same prickle of unease he had when he’d awakened and found Pippin staring at him in his sleep. Once again something was not as it seemed. He twisted around to look at the others—  
“Merry! Pippin!” Frodo leaped to his feet and was immediately pulled back with a thump by the leather tie attaching him to Sam. He tried to snap the accursed thing. This was simply too tiresome and he would not tolerate it any longer! The harder he struggled the tighter the knot became. Frodo was ready to scream out his anguish.

“Ummph! What? What’s the matter, Mr Frodo?” Sam came instantly awake and bolted upright. “What’s happening?”

“Sam, they’re gone!” Frodo continued to wrestle with the binding.

“Perhaps they just went to answer the call of nature?” Aragorn said, and headed into the far cavern.

“Then why did I not notice them leaving, Aragorn?” Gimli was unconvinced. He trotted in their direction. There was simply no way the hobbits could have got past him by the usual means. He would have seen them.

Aragorn returned and grabbed his sword. Frodo followed. “Stay here,” Aragorn told him.

“No!” Frodo and Sam both mounted a rigorous protest to the notion of being left behind.

“Aragorn, I must help search for them! Sam will stay here with Gandalf.”

“No Mr Frodo! You shan’t be leaving me behind! I’m going too!”

“This argument is only delaying our search. Please remain here. We do not need more people getting lost!”

Frodo paced frantically about the immediate vicinity, struggling in vain to beat down his escalating panic. Finally he whirled on the wizard.

“We must do something Gandalf! They cannot leave us behind like this!” 

Gandalf sought to calm him to no avail. 

Sam crept closer and tried to offer comfort to his friend. “T’will be all right, Mr Frodo. Strider will find them,” he reassured.

Frodo released a moan of despair that sent shivers down Sam’s back.

***

After hours of searching Aragorn and the others stood at the edge of the chasm Legolas had encountered during their earlier exploration. No trace of Pippin or Merry had yet been found. They had searched their immediate surroundings and ended up at the crevasse, staring grimly into the never-ending tunnel of darkness. The light from their torches was of little help. Aragorn shared a grim look with his companions. He did not want to face Frodo and tell him they had not located his kin.

“Aragorn, surely you do not think they may have fallen into this chasm?” Boromir spoke quietly, his horror at the thought hidden carefully behind his controlled voice.

“I do not believe they could have gone any further away. We searched miles of corridors. We must return to camp for more supplies and explore this area further.”

“Aye, we’ll not give up!” The Dwarf sounded fierce in his conviction.

“Of course not,” Boromir murmured. “Should not two of us wait here, in case we should see or hear anything from below, while you return to camp for the supplies?”

“An excellent idea. Legolas and I will return and inform the others of our plan. We will be back shortly.”

Legolas followed him out of the narrow corridor. A moment before they reached the campsite he stopped. “Aragorn. There is something I must tell you.” 

Aragorn paused. “Can this not wait awhile longer?”

Legolas shook his head sadly. “Nay, I have already waited too long.”


	8. Into Greater Darkness

“Into Greater Darkness”

 

She spoke into the gloom that surrounded her, voice raised in a wail. ‘Come to me! Bring the lost spirits and I shall be whole at last.’

The chill. Lost. He wandered up one tunnel and down the next. The voices tugged him along; he had no will of his own. He was aware that ahead of him another wandered. He stumbled through the darkness knowing the will he heeded was not his own. He was many. And he was none. He knew one purpose only. To seek, reunite. Obey. Mocking laughter burst from the walls on either side of his path. He clutched the single smooth stone tighter. Who was he? The blue sphere shone from between his fingers and he lifted it to his eyes. Deep inside it held many voices urging him on into greater darkness. He stared at the myriad of colors swirling within and discerned a single voice, stronger, more demanding than the others; Merry listened to it closely, frowning, his feet hastening the length of the cold rock floor.

The stones wept. He grasped the largest one tightly in his right hand and quickened his pace, as if doing so would calm them. It made no difference. He squeezed his hand shut over the remaining pebbles seeking comfort in their warmth. The soft tones grew until they were a jarring ringing which only added to his distress. The cries were deafening him and he sought to stifle them by pressing his hands to his aching head. The crying increased until he thought he would go mad. He staggered, and then began to run, heart thumping in his chest. He heard the footsteps of the one who trailed him running, too. A moment later, a black cloud of winged air descended all about him. He flailed his arms in wild horror but no matter which way he turned he was unable to flee. Pippin staggered, crashing into the sharp rocks at his feet and lay still.

The gray creatures swooped about his prone form, eyeing him greedily; sharp teeth glittered in the darkness. Dark mouths opened and closed rapidly before screeching voices rose as one to answer another who called them to her. . .

***  
Yes, come to me my servants. You have no dread of darkness. It is your fortification.

Her cold laughter rang out, building to a shrieking crescendo that let slip her madness, her passion for the years spent alone, in preparation for this day. She drew forth a great-fingered wing, stretching out each barbed claw in turn, and stared in distress at the transparent display. Not yet. She remained still only a shadow of her former self. No matter. In her mind she already existed whole and potent. Soon she would harness her full power once more and then nothing could save them.

***

“I wish I could get down there right now. I cannot bear this waiting while they may be trapped down there in that black hole.” Boromir appeared calm enough, but inside he was anything but calm. He and Gimli knelt over the crevasse in the floor of the corridor and waited for Aragorn’s return. The thought of Merry and Pippin down in that dark place, perhaps injured, surely frightened out of their wits, was almost more than he could bear. He hoped Aragorn was wrong about this.

“Best you wait for the rope. ‘Twould not do to go about this all willy-nilly and create more problems.” Gimli looked at the frowning face in the flickering light of the torch and awkwardly tried to comfort his companion. “They very well may not be down there, you know.”

“Aragorn seems to think this is the only place left to look.” Boromir replied with a grimace.  
Gimli grunted, pacing the floor. “’Tis a very good thing someone had the presence of mind to tuck away a bit of rope for the journey,” he muttered, as though disgusted with himself for forgetting such an essential item.

Boromir laid flat and thrust the torch as far down the hole as he could. He saw nothing; there was only blackness. He listened carefully for sound. All was still. Boromir carefully inched back and regained his feet, a deep sigh on his lips and a strange ache in his heart. He took to pacing at the entrance to the tunnel, straining his eyes into the darkness for any sign of their companions. Gimli watched in silence.

***

The Ranger’s face darkened as he listened to Legolas recount Pippin’s secret. Finally he spoke, “How long had you planned on waiting to inform me?”

“Aragorn…” Legolas took a deep breath and released it slowly. “I know now I should have spoken. However, at first it did not seem so serious. It was merely a curious thing. And Pippin became so upset with the thought of telling you,” his voice trailed off and he looked ashamed. “I did not know how dire the situation was.”

“Why did you not come to me sooner? I understand Pippin’s hesitance. He is young and inexperienced. But you should have told me immediately.”

“I have no answer to your question.” Why had he allowed Pippin to stay his better judgment? Legolas wondered. He had no answer to that question either.

“We do not have time to discuss this now. We will speak more of it later.” Aragorn turned away, steeling his will to deal with Frodo. The others looked up at their approach. 

Aragorn shook his head. “We have returned for additional supplies. We are going to explore the crevasse that Legolas came upon yesterday.”

The wizard looked from one to the other sensing the tension between them. He nodded, saving his questions for later. Frodo however, did not. He stood, his resolve strengthening as he faced Aragorn. “I wish to accompany you--”  
“No,” Aragorn’s voice was flat as he retrieved tools from his pack, and a coil of rope, his back to Frodo all the while.

“It is not a request!”

Aragorn halted in his preparations and spun on Frodo. “We have a large enough concern with your missing cousins. I do not need another person to be worried about.”

“Then do not be concerned with me, but I shan’t stay behind any longer. I am as responsible for them as you are and I shall help find them!” Frodo gathered his things as he spoke.

Sam watched with concern and his eyes flickered to the wizard in a silent plea. Gandalf stood to the side of the little group and now he stepped forward.

“Aragorn, perhaps it would be better if we all accompanied you, at least as far as the crevasse. We have been waiting here for word of what is happening for some time. It might at least relieve a small portion of the disquiet while we wait.”

Aragorn paused and considered the wizard’s words. His gaze softened when he looked at Frodo and Sam, noting their worried expressions. “Very well. But you must listen to our direction at all times. Understood?”

Frodo nodded curtly. “Come, Sam.” He linked his arm with his friend’s and started quickly towards the back of the cavern.

Aragorn and Legolas were already out of sight as Gandalf hoisted a torch and followed at a more sedate pace. The wizard considered the tension between the two warriors. Something was wrong and his own sense of foreboding was growing stronger by the hour.

“Ah, here they are at last. I told you it would not be much longer.” Boromir hurried forward to assist them in carrying their burden to the edge of the deep hole.

“Easy lad!” Gimli bent to retrieve the items Boromir had dropped in his haste.

“We have already wasted far too much time.” Boromir grimaced as he attempted to unwind the rope and in his haste succeeded only in tangling it. Annoyed, he tugged hard at the knot and created a worse one. He increased his efforts and in his frustration very nearly flung the whole thing down the wide crack. The Dwarf observed his actions in silent incredulity.

Boromir snatched the rope up and appeared ready to pound the walls in his agitation when Frodo stepped forward and gently pulled the cord away from him, applying his small hands to the tangled mess. Boromir slumped against the rock and watched as Frodo and Sam completed the task he had started. He mopped his sweaty face with a shaking hand.

The Ranger chose to ignore the scene and busied himself with unloading his pack. Soon the party was ready to rappel down the steep incline into whatever awaited. They stood as one and peered into the darkness. Frodo stared into the crack at their feet disturbed by the possibility his cousins had actually tumbled into the deep hole.

Sam placed a comforting arm about his shoulders and spoke quietly. “It’ll be all right Mr Frodo, just you wait and see. Strider will find them. I know he will.”

Frodo smiled at his friend’s confidence. “I hope so Sam.” He looked at the Ranger; his uneasiness was clear. 

“We will proceed with the utmost caution. I will go first. Boromir and Gimli will follow.” Aragorn trained his eyes on the elf. “Legolas, will you please remain here and keep the watch with Gandalf?”

Legolas opened his mouth to protest but said nothing when Aragorn held up a hand to stop him. 

“One of us must stand guard here. If Gandalf were to need assistance it would take too long for one of us to return. As I said earlier, we cannot be too careful in this place.” Legolas bowed his head in acquiescence.

Aragorn looked around. “Are there any questions?”

“We will be fine, Aragorn. Please proceed.” The wizard waved them on.

“Aye, please find Mr Frodo’s cousins Strider!”

Aragorn gave a curt nod. “We will, Sam.”

Legolas helped them lower their torches to the floor of the deep cavern. Dropping the rope, Aragorn descended into the long crack into the lower caverns. An anxious Boromir was not far behind, carefully lowering himself hand over hand. In a moment Gimli followed while Legolas and Gandalf monitored the ropes secure hold on a huge rock. At last they felt the rope go slack. Peering over the edge they were no longer able to see their companions below, but they could still hear them. 

Aragorn’s voice echoed up the shaft. “We have arrived safely.” 

Then there was nothing but silence.

“Well,” the wizard sank down on an outcropping of stone and attempted to make himself comfortable. “We may have a long wait.”

“Why can we not continue to search?” Frodo’s anxiety was painful to behold. “We might check some of the areas you searched before,” he nodded at Legolas.

Legolas looked uncomfortable. “We did search rather thoroughly.” The pleading in Frodo’s eyes touched him. “However, I do not believe it would do any harm to have another look.”

All eyes shifted to Gandalf. “I hate to disappoint you but the answer, at least for the moment, is no. We will stay put and await word from below.” He held up his hand to stop the protest about to burst forth from Frodo. “For now. However, if they remain gone for a long spell then perhaps I will consider the possibility of another search at this level. For the time being we wait here. Is that understood?” He eyed each of them in turn. Legolas nodded.  
“Aye, Mr Gandalf,” Sam reluctantly agreed, casting a glance at Frodo.

“Frodo?”

“Yes Gandalf.” Frodo’s voice was low. “For the time being.”

“I want your word that you will not wander from the group. Yes?”

“Yes.”

Gandalf still looked unhappy but he let the matter drop for the moment. “Perhaps we should build a small fire. The air is even more damp here than in the outer cavern.” 

No one said a word as they set about retrieving the needed supplies from the pony’s back. Bill was as quiet as his two-legged companions and watched as Sam took a pack containing firewood from his back. Legolas assisted them in constructing a pit large enough for the small campfire. Gandalf’s eyes were following Legolas’s actions when they heard a shout from below. Frodo was the first to reach the edge of the chasm and he yelled back to them.

“Aragorn! Have you found them?”

“No.” The voice echoed eerily. “We have searched the immediate area of this cavern and we are now proceeding away from here. It may be some time before we are in communication again.”

“Do not be concerned with us Aragorn! We will be here when you return.” The wizard looked pointedly at Frodo who answered with a grimace and a shout to the Ranger.

“Please Aragorn, just find them!”

The stillness of the cave closed in about them once more as they listened to the last of the footsteps fade away. Frodo slumped down next to their fire and placed his head in his hands. Sam sat close by. They did not speak. As time eased slowly by the sound of restful breathing told the wizard that the two weary hobbits had fallen asleep at last.   
Gandalf took advantage of the opportunity to speak privately and indicated to Legolas he should take a seat next to him. The Elf obeyed without protest.

“What is wrong between you and Aragorn?” Gandalf spoke very softly.

Legolas looked away. At last, he spoke. “He is angry with me.”

“About what?”

Legolas sighed and settled back against the rock wall. “Mithrandir,” he whispered, “I have done a terrible thing.”

“And that is?”

“I withheld something out of compassion, and in doing so I have created greater turmoil for all.”

Gandalf considered the words. “This concerns Peregrin, does it not?”

“How did you know?”

Gandalf sighed. “I have sensed something odd for some time now. Whatever is wrong is beginning to affect everyone. I am not at all surprised to hear he has been holding something back. But, how did you become involved?”

The Elf was quiet for several moments before speaking. “Do you remember the day we camped near the river? Just before heading up the mountain?”

“Of course. We spent two nights there preparing for the journey. We set Pippin and Merry to work gathering firewood whilst Frodo and Sam washed clothes while the rest of you hunted.”

Gandalf gazed into the shadows, recalling the scene. “Pippin’s sleeves were wet,” he said softly. It had not seemed of much significance at the time. The memory had stayed with him because he was puzzled over why Pippin would be trailing his hands in the water on such a chill day.

“What, Gandalf?”

“Oh, I was just musing about the fact that of late, the lad’s shirt sleeves have been wet almost every time I’ve looked at him. Including while we’ve camped here in the cavern.”

Legolas nodded. “Something has been bothering me since the time we left that area.”

“How so?”

“You recall when Aragorn took Frodo to task over his poor attitude? Pippin ran off into the woods.”

“Yes. You followed him and returned him safely to our camp.”

Legolas hesitated before continuing. “I walked behind Pippin and observed his actions for some time while he was unaware of my presence. He appeared to be. . .listening. Watching out over the water, as if in expectation. After a time he would pause and run his hands along the edge of the water as though seeking something. Then he continued his walk, now and again pausing to listen once more.”

“Hmm, running his hands in the water you say? Did you happen to see him remove anything?”

Legolas shook his head. “Nay, he simply continued on in the same manner for a time.”

“Did you confront him?”

“Yes, he was on the way back when I startled him on the path. I queried him on his actions and he explained that for some time he had discerned something, he was not sure just what, a voice or a fragment of music, and it seemed to be calling out to him. He said he thought there was something he could not remember, something he should know, and it was worrying him. I have been feeling the same way. Something touches my mind but I am unable to bring it into full awareness.”  
Gandalf touched his shoulder gently. “Did he say anything else?”

“I asked him if what he heard frightened him and he replied that it did not. Instead, he said it bewildered him.”

“Hmm. I wonder. . .” Gandalf pondered almost to himself. “Watching over the water. . .playing his hands about in it as if seeking something. . .”

“Gandalf?”

“Did he say anything else?” Gandalf asked abruptly.

Legolas’s face bore a pained expression. “He begged me not to reveal what he had said. I encouraged him to talk to you, or to his cousins, or Aragorn, but he protested he would rather not, at least not at that time. While I told him I might need to reveal what he had told me I did agree that I would say nothing for the time being.” He dipped his head and whispered, “That is where I made my first error in judgment.”

“Aragorn knows of this incident now? That is why he is angry?”

Legolas nodded. “But it does not end there. It gets much worse. Not long after I followed him from camp after he had awakened from a nightmare--”

“Yes, I am aware of that. I also was awakened that night and observed the events.”

“Pippin wandered away but I knew he was not sleepwalking. I was ready to take him to task for his foolish behaviour when he paused and stood staring up into the night sky for the longest time. I waited and grew uneasy as more time passed. I was about to confront him when he seemed to shake himself back to his senses and returned to camp. I decided not to mention the incident to anyone, however, I intended to keep a closer eye on him.”

“It was not long after that he became more excitable.” Gandalf rubbed his chin in thought. “He and Merry were getting out of sorts with one another. I recall the outburst he had while on the path to this cave.”

“Yes, he was nearly frantic that day. I had been questioning him, asking if he was still hearing the music or the voices. He took quite an exception to that. And then. . .it was so odd! He started to carry on about his family, most especially his aunt. He kept saying no one would understand, and that you and Aragorn would believe he was just like her.”

“Hmm, how very interesting. You recall the story that Merry and Frodo told? Pippin has very strong feelings toward this particular relative, and they have never been especially positive ones. I shall have to think on that.”

The two of them sat in companionable silence for some time, each pondering their conversation. Finally Legolas spoke again.

“Mithrandir? What do you think is happening? Do you have some suspicion about what is going on?”

The wizard remained silent for several minutes and just as Legolas began to believe he did not intend to answer, Gandalf spoke at last. “There is a legend, my young friend. One that is very old and doubtlessly recalled by few.”

There was something in Gandalf’s voice that sent shivers up and down Legolas’s spine.

“Have you ever considered how the palantíri came to be? Where and how they originated? And why they were created?” The wizard sat very still, staring into the dark tunnel as he spoke, his voice very soft. 

“The palantíri?” Legolas thought hard about the things he knew surrounding the mysterious Seeing Stones. They were a medium by which to pass on information over vast distances, that much was common knowledge. He knew that the stones could be used to communicate and share thoughts with others. “The palantíri were created in the Undying Lands by Feanor, who also made the Silmarils. Over the years many of them were lost, and have never been found again.”

“Yes.” Gandalf continued speaking softly. “That is all true. When communication is attempted the people involved hear the voices inside their heads as palantíri do not transmit any sound. It is also said that past events are held captured within the very essence of the stones and are retrievable by those possessing a very strong will.”

The wizard was silent for so long that Legolas finally prompted him to continue.

“Ah, yes. And did you know that the Stone of Osgiliath was lost in the waters of the Anduin during the civil war of the Kin-Strife in the Third Age?”

“Yes. That particular Stone was the Master of the seven palantíri in Middle Earth.”

“And it was capable of surveying all of the other Stones at once and could even eavesdrop upon communications between the palantíri. It was one of the largest Stones. Two others are known to have been lost in the water; they are the Stones of Annuminas and Amon Sul, and went into the sea after the ship foundered on the ice. Legend has it that they fell into a great volcano under the sea.” The wizard’s voice trailed off. He refocused his gaze upon the Elf. “It is believed that the only force capable of destroying a palantír is a great fire.”

“Gandalf, do you believe there is some force directing a palantír to have an influence over our Company? But, how can that be? Pippin could not simply have scooped one up and placed it in his pocket. They are in general, far too large for that. Unless. . .” Legolas pondered, his eyes slowly widening in understanding.

“Ah. I see you are beginning to follow my reasoning. Yes indeed. You are quite correct. In order for the lad to have been able to carry it in his pocket it would now be very small, yes? Recall that I told you the old legend says the palantíri fell into a great volcano. If the Stones were transformed by the intense heat then it is possible many small pieces of it survived.”

“Oh, Stars.”

“Water is the common guide, you know. It creates a connection between planes, quite literally in fact, in some instances. It may have carried bits of the destroyed palantíri over vast distances during the passage of time. The legend says that the palantíri will struggle to be found and reunited. Of course, legends have a way of becoming distorted with the passing of years.”

Legolas gasped, one hand flying to his brow in sudden understanding. “The water, his fascination with watching the water, and playing about in it. The conduction of voices over vast distances. Gandalf--!”

“Indeed. If there is any truth to the legend then it is entirely possible young Peregrin is contributing to the reunification of the Stones. He may have been collecting bits of them from the waters during our journey. If this is the case then it naturally follows that the control exerted by the will of the Stones would cause the lad to remain quiet about his discovery. To him it has likely seemed he was collecting a great treasure of sorts.”

“One he did not wish to share.”

Gandalf nodded. “The power of the Ring that travels with us may also be an influence, I do not know. The Stones would likely seek to captivate the mind of a person with an open will. Someone who is perhaps susceptible to its call.” The wizard inhaled and let out the breath slowly. “Someone who possesses the Sight, perhaps. And I believe if this is what has been occurring others whom Pippin is close to may also be easily influenced through his mind, especially his kin. Hence, the interactions he has had with Merry, and also with Frodo. Pippin is no doubt experiencing a very difficult struggle dealing with the myriad of emotion he is channeling through the Stones, and adding that to his already very excitable nature, In addition to that the Ring will almost certainly be involved in the magnification of strong feelings. Recall the night when Frodo attacked his young cousin in his sleep.”

“And the nightmares they both seem to share.” Legolas took a moment to absorb all he had learned. “I recall a recent conversation I had with Aragorn. We spoke of such things. I reminded him of the existence of intuitive links between those who are close to one another. I was of a mind at the time that Pippin’s and Frodo’s actions were the result of that bond. And that Pippin’s actions were more likely caused by his lack of maturity and the confronting so many new challenges. Although I admit to having been more puzzled over the voices and the music. Now it would seem there is so much more involved.”

“Pippin is no doubt being bombarded with great zeal from the Stones. The greater the number he has found, the stronger the compulsion to act upon its fervor.” Gandalf sighed heavily, his face paling. “As a matter of fact, if this is indeed what has happened it is a small wonder the lad has not been driven mad by the constant preying of the force upon his mind. The matter at hand has become much more urgent. We must find them quickly. If Aragorn and the rest do not return soon then I believe it would behoove us to proceed with our own search.”

“I agree.”

Gandalf chuckled, but the sound held little humour. “Perhaps it would have been wise for Aragorn to have placed some sleeping powders in Pippin’s food also, rather than just Frodo’s. At the very least, a sleepy hobbit would be easier to track.”

Legolas raised an eyebrow. “Aragorn has been drugging the Ringbearer? How long has this been occurring?”

“Only since our entrance into the caverns. He deemed it safer, given Frodo’s penchant for night wandering. We were concerned he might try to leave the cave and wind up caught in the blizzard. If that had happened we likely never would have found him. Alive, at least.”

The two of them fell silent for a short time. Gandalf studied the backs of the slumbering hobbits while he ruminated.

Legolas busied his mind with developing a strategy for further exploration, trying desperately to determine if there was anything they might have missed during the earlier search. The wizard’s words weighed heavily upon him, and he was still disturbed by the feeling there was something he needed to remember. 

“Mithrandir?”

Gandalf looked up.

“Is there anything else I am not aware of?”

Gandalf smiled his understanding. “No, I believe that about covers it all.”

Frodo scowled and shifted his position next to Sam, doing his best to remain quiet and appear as if he continued to sleep. The pretense was growing more difficult with each new bit of information he was learning from the conversation between Gandalf and Legolas. Inwardly he fumed.

How dare he! It is bad enough that he insists I stay lashed to Sam at night. But, to drug me without my knowledge or consent? It is unconscionable! And how long has Gandalf suspected Pippin carries bits of a palantír? We must act now! I must act now! I don’t care to hear any more of Aragorn’s opinion, I must creep away and begin my own search as quickly as possible. Perhaps they will fall asleep soon. 

***

“Do ye see anything lad?” The Dwarf’s voice echoed down the deepest tunnel they had yet explored. Gimli grunted with the effort of helping to hold Boromir’s weight.

“No.” The voice that answered his sounded weary and disgusted. I can see nothing, nor hear any sound as far as I am able to go.”

“Pull him up.” The Ranger’s voice was taut with his feelings of failure that now bombarded him at every turn. Aragorn was tempted to let out a bellow of frustration, but refused to allow himself the luxury. Instead he busied himself with rewinding the rope as Boromir shed it.

“It appears we have searched every inch we are able to freely access,” the big man complained.

“Aye, and a few that were not so free, eh?” Gimli turned in a circle, eyeing the ceiling as he waved his torch about. He pointed. “Ah, see yonder, lads. A multitude of winged beasties!”

Aragorn looked in the direction the dwarf pointed. “We should be very careful not to disturb them if we are able.”

“Yes, it would be most unpleasant to bring down a horde of bats upon our heads,” Boromir snorted and brushed his long hair back from his sweaty face. “Confounded clamminess! How the air may stay so damp and chill while at the same time causing one to perspire as though it were a hot summer’s day is beyond my ken.”

“Aye, ‘tis the nature of caves. It does not perturb me, though. I am very accustomed to being underground, of course.”

 

“So you say. As for me, I am not a dwarf,” Boromir admitted dryly.

“Ah, yes, well there’s naught to be done to remedy that. The air is what it is.” Gimli sank onto a rock and drew a deep breath letting it out quickly. “What do you think? Should we head back and explore elsewhere?”

Aragorn nodded. “I do not think they have come this way. We have given the search ample leeway and I believe it is indeed time we traveled in the opposite direction. Perhaps there is news from the caverns above by this time. At the very least, we require the opportunity to refresh ourselves and rest for a brief time before continuing.”

Boromir opened his mouth to protest and was stopped by the Ranger’s raised hand. “Nay Boromir. Do not fear. We will not stop searching until we find them. But we need to regroup and rethink our strategy before continuing.”

“I know you are right, but I just cannot help feeling that the longer they are missing. . .” Boromir’s voice trailed off and his companions nodded their understanding.

“Aye,” Gimli agreed. “But ‘twill not further our goal to go about our search willy-nilly.”

The Gondorian conceded without any further protest. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, giving a shudder of distaste at the flock of furry bats before following the others. A sound like the crunch of gravel met his ears. Boromir paused, turning his head. He squinted into the gloom. Had those been footsteps? Unease prickled at his skin, a feeling like a thousand thistles brushing against his skin as he hesitated, straining his ears into the darkness. A chattering of laughter echoed inside his head as a thousand glittering eyes of stone peered down at him from the ceiling. There were bats everywhere now. Boromir turned; resisting the urge to run, he settled for a brisk stride.

Aragorn cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted. Momentarily he felt a tug on the rope and Legolas called down to him. It didn’t take long to hoist their gear up and then the travellers themselves. Aragorn paused at the top to take a quick look around at the little group before scrambling the rest of the way out of the chasm and removing the rope from his shoulders. Boromir was already filling them in on their intentions.

The Ranger braced himself for the onslaught of emotion from Frodo. He became alarmed when it did not come. He peered a little closer at the hobbits and watched as Sam rose from the blankets. The huddled form beside him appeared to slumber still. Eyes darkening in suspicion Aragorn hastened to the fire and ripped the blanket away. The underlying rocks had been fashioned to look like a sleeping hobbit. This time he did roar, making his displeasure known to all. “Where is Frodo?”


	9. Revelations

“Revelations”

She stretched forth her great wings, extending claws of iron and drew them down the walls of her prison, shuddering with pleasure at the shrill sound. The uneasiness of the little one was growing greater with each step he came closer, and this pleased her. She released a shriek of amusement as her pawn shook with fear.

Soon. Yes, freedom was only a short distance away. . .

***

It had taken all Frodo’s skill in stealth, and all his patience to wait for the right moment to slip away from them. Legolas had stepped away briefly, but it was long enough. Gandalf had appeared to doze. And in those quiet moments he had made his escape. He was sorry for the distress his disappearance would cause. But, the outcome would be worse than worry if his cousins were not found quickly. Of this he was certain.

Frodo bristled as he recalled the conversation he’d overheard. It was simply unbelievable that Aragorn would do such a thing as drug him into sleep, night wandering notwithstanding. He listened closely for several minutes, leaning into the darkness, getting accustomed to the dimmer light of this passage. He felt a grim satisfaction as he shifted his torch into the other hand. If he hadn’t been able to secure it then all would have been for naught for he wouldn’t be able to travel far. It seemed that fate was on his side for once. Who better than he to locate his cousins? He knew their ways, their inclinations. He knew how to think like they did. Frodo nodded with determination. He had taught them much about mischief and furtiveness himself. But he did not believe that mischief making was behind their disappearance; even moreso now after having heard what Gandalf told Legolas of his suspicions. What was it Gandalf had said about the Seeing Stones being compelled to reunite? The nature of the predicament reminded him all too much of the Ring and its draining, fiery pull on his every waking moment. He shivered at the thought of his youngest cousin confronting a similar force. And what of Merry? Had he simply followed Pippin to bring him back or was he too affected?  
As he searched ahead in the hopes of seeing some sign of his cousins, he failed to notice a section of loose stones and scrim at his feet. He found himself slipping and cried out when he found himself tumbling down a steep corridor that dropped off suddenly. He landed sharply and his head struck the sharp point of a stalagmite protruding from the floor. His world went dark despite the flickering from the torch that lay dangerously close at his side.

***

Aragorn held the blanket aloft, his expression darkening.

Sam turned sharply. “Oh no!” 

“How did he evade you?” Aragorn flung the blanket away. Can you not watch over one small hobbit by yourselves?” His voice rose sharply, distressing the others.

“Aragorn,” Gandalf attempted to soothe him. “Frodo did give his word to both of us that he would not stray. He must have felt compelled to break that vow.” 

“Gandalf, do you realise what this means? We now have three missing hobbits!”

“Strider, I really tried hard to keep him safe! You have to believe me! I mean, I didn’t lash his foot to mine but I thought we had an understanding. He must have done it right after I fell asleep. Oh, how could I have let this happen?” Sam started away. “We have to find him. Come, let’s go right now.” 

Aragorn’s expression softened. He sank to one knee and placed his hands on Sam’s shoulders. “Samwise, it will be all right,” he soothed. “We will find him.” He stood and regarded the group. “All right then. We shall form a search party in the same fashion as we did before. We may search for three as easily as two, I suppose.”

“I think it would be wise to split up,” the wizard said. “We may cover more area that way and we can mark our way as we go along.”

“You are right, Gandalf.” Aragorn was already turning down the passageway when the wizard pulled him aside.

“Aragorn, I believe it is of the utmost importance that we locate them as quickly as possible. Most particularly Pippin.”

“Why, Gandalf? Is something else amiss?”

“There is no time to lose, nor time to explain. Trust me please.”

Aragorn nodded. “Of course.” He followed the wizard into the corridor leading away from the crevasse.

***

“We will take a brief rest here.” Aragorn pointed.

“No, we don’t need to stop! Strider, if I can keep going then all of you can too!” Sam spun on them, his dismay radiating like a hot flame around the circle of weary travellers now reunited after a long search. “Come now, let’s go.” He began marching off from the group, oblivious to the calls for him to come back.

“Sam, we have been making our way through the rocks and streams for hours.” Aragorn called. “Please come back. We will continue in a short time.”  
Sam halted, but he did not turn around.

The Ranger spoke softly. “I know how distressing this is to you. However, there is a good reason for resting. Please come back now.”

Sam stood there saying nothing, considering Aragorn’s words. 

Boromir sighed, watching the exchange uneasily. They were all tense enough without a member of their party acting blindly. 

Sam could not help himself. In spite of his hobbit sense telling him that Strider was right, something else was telling him that his master needed him and there was no time to lose. He took another step.

“Confound it Samwise Gamgee!” Gandalf bellowed. “Get back here now!”

Sam sprinted away.

With a wordless cry Boromir was on his feet and running before anyone else. 

Sam tore down the corridor gaining speed and skidded into the turn ahead, not looking where he was going. 

“Watch where you’re going Sam!” Aragorn was only a few steps behind Boromir. “The way is treacherous, you little fool!” The words had no sooner left his mouth than a yelp of fright and the sound of sliding rocks met their ears. “Oh no.” Aragorn quickened his pace.

They rounded the corner just in time to stop themselves before they, too, tumbled down the steep incline into the shallow water below.

Boromir pointed. “He fell just there, to the left of the water. Here, lend me your arm and I will lean down to see how deep the hole is.”

“Samwise! Can you hear me?” Gandalf leaned over and peered into the darkness. “Aragorn! I smell something burning but I do not believe it is a torch.”

“Aye, there’s something afire up ahead, just away from where I’m at. I can smell it and I can see a light,” Sam called, pointing.

Boromir leaned down into the hole with his torch and then assured them the incline was shallow. “We will be able to slide down carefully at an angle, yet afoot.” Boromir gestured at the ground. “Here, one of you hold a torch close by while I--”

His words were cut short by Sam’s frantic shout.

“Ahhh, it’s Mr. Frodo! And his breeches are catching afire from his torch! Help! He’s burning alive!”

Legolas sprang into action and slid down the shallow embankment, landing gracefully on his feet at the bottom and hurried to Frodo’s side. He grabbed the torch and flung it away, then knelt in the shallow water and lifted him gently. Sam struggled to his feet and limped as fast as he could to the still form, reaching him just a moment later. 

The Elf deposited Frodo into the Ranger’s waiting arms. Aragorn sighed with relief before encircling himself with the rope Gandalf tossed down to him. Legolas did the same and together they hoisted the injured hobbit from below while the wizard and the dwarf pulled from above.

“What about you? Are you injured?” Boromir gave Sam a cursory glance with a practiced eye while Sam shook his head. “Come then.” He hoisted Sam onto his hip and waited for the rope. Gimli and Legolas hauled them up soon after. Grunting with the effort Boromir gave one final hearty pull before he and Sam managed to scramble over the edge of the hole. He placed the shaky hobbit on the ground but Sam was immediately on his feet, scrambling over to Frodo.

“Oh dear, oh dear! Is he burned? How bad is it, let me see.” He pushed his way in closer and knelt by the still form. “Oh, how could I let you get away from me? It’s my fault Strider! It’s all my fault.”

“Sam, calm down please. Kindly allow me room to check Frodo’s injuries.” Aragorn turned a frown on the well-meaning hobbit. “Go with Boromir.”

“But--”

“Hush. Come, allow me to look you over to make certain you are not hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me Boromir! It’s Mr. Frodo you should be concerned with.” Sam attempted to shrug Boromir’s arm off his shoulder.

“Come with me and allow Aragorn to see to Frodo.” Boromir carried him into an alcove and deposited him firmly on a boulder, immediately beginning his examination. At last he nodded, satisfied that no harm had come to the wayward hobbit. “It would seem you are quite right. You appear to be your usual hearty self. I can detect no real injuries save for a few scrapes and bruises.”

Sam bristled at Boromir’s tone. “I told you so,” he muttered, yanking his arm away and straightening his clothing.

“I dare say your body is in better shape than your common sense.” Boromir stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest surveying the hobbit sternly.

Sam’s head shot up and he scowled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know very well what I mean. That was quite unworthy of you. A cave is no place to be tearing about and not looking where you are going. We have been telling you that time and again. The dangers here are rampant. You not only put yourself at risk, you risked harm to all with your actions.”

“I had to find Mr. Frodo!” Sam’s voice rose. “You saw, Boromir! He was about to burn up and he would’ve too if we hadn’t reached him in time.”

“Peace, Sam. It is only by chance that this worked out as well as it did.”

“You call this working out well?” Sam’s face clouded over like a gray sky on a cloudy day, his voice growing loud as he stood to face the warrior.

Boromir felt his own temper rising along with Sam’s ire. “Sam--”

“I call it a foolish disregard of my command, “Aragorn said. He stood behind them, cradling Frodo in his arms.

“Is he all right, Strider? Please, just tell me he’s going to be all right.” Sam rushed to his side.

“Yes. He has a nasty bump on the head and a cut.” Aragorn nodded to the place they had found Frodo. “I believe he made contact with one of the sharp rock formations. See, he is coming around now.”

Frodo groaned and lifted a shaky hand to his brow.

“Oh, glory! He’s alive, that’s all that matters. You just lay still there, Mr. Frodo. Everything’s going to be fine.” Tears of relief slid down Sam’s cheeks unchecked.

“Sam?” Frodo tried to lift his head from Aragorn’s shoulder. “Oh, my head. What happened?”

“Perhaps you should tell us the answer to that question.” Aragorn told him. “He also has a very minor burn to the right leg. We must make camp so I may finish attending to him.”

“What about Pippin and Merry? We cannot abandon our search!”

“Of course not, Boromir. However, we need to decide how best to proceed and I must tend to this scoundrel.” Aragorn said as they started back. “We will continue our exploration further into the caverns. But in order to do that we must be prepared. As I have reminded everyone, this is not a place to become distracted and react rashly for it is far too treacherous a place.” He frowned in Sam’s direction and then nodded at the hobbit in his arms. “I must make certain Frodo is tended to first. Come, we need to prepare a bed for him.”

The others shared an uneasy look before hastening after them. Time was precious. They were losing too much of it. 

Gandalf followed at a short distance, watching them retreat into a sheltered grotto where Aragorn laid Frodo gently onto the blanket Sam hurried to spread out. Aragorn’s increasing temper worried him, as did Boromir’s growing unrest. Samwise was clearly not himself; he had traded his good sense for poor decisions and Gandalf was worried about the strain the hobbit was under. He had never seen Sam act so temperamentally, or Frodo either, for that matter. And what of Legolas’s poor judgment in keeping Pippin’s confidence when the problem was so obviously becoming serious? Strange sounds. Voices whispering in the darkness. . . It seemed only he and Gimli remained themselves. Gandalf wondered if the dwarf’s frequently crude humour could also be attributed to the unusual circumstances they found themselves in, then dismissed the idea with a grunt. The wizard’s unease had grown with each disturbing incident and he was loath to allow his thoughts full sway to drift in the direction they wished to go. However, it was more difficult to dismiss his mounting sense of dread. The old legend kept coming to mind and for the first time he gave it his full attention. There were too many things pointing towards the possibility of the unthinkable.

***

“He is asleep.” A weary Ranger lowered himself beside the small campfire, joining the remaining Company as they picked at their meal. “He must be awakened every hour for the rest of the night to make certain he does not have a concussion. As long as he remains coherent for the night then I believe he will recover quickly.”

“The head wound was not serious then?” Boromir asked.

“Nay. Although there was a great deal of blood that is, of course, to be expected in an injury of this nature. The burn is of little consequence,” Aragorn said.

“Aye, and no thanks to any of you for that tidy bit of good fortune!”

“Samwise! Mind your tongue, my lad!”

“Well, it’s the truth Gandalf! If I hadn’t’ve run ahead Mr. Frodo might have been burned very badly. I knew we had to hurry. I had a strong feeling!”

“You did not know what the outcome would be Sam, and you failed to heed my instructions. That is something that cannot happen again.”

Aragorn touched a weary hand to his brow. “We shall start out again in a few hours. As soon as I am certain that Frodo is out of danger I will leave him in your capable hands, Gandalf. Do you agree?”

The wizard nodded.

“Sam will, of course, remain with you to assist with Frodo.”

“Aye, yes I will!”

“We shall form two search parties. Gimli and Legolas will explore one direction whilst Boromir and I take the other. We will mark our way as we go and meet back at our starting point within one day’s time if not sooner, depending on how we fare.” He glanced around the circle at each of them. “Are there any questions? No? Very well.”

“Now, I have something I must share with you all.” The wizard looked at Legolas before continuing. “It is time that all secrets held close to heart are placed before this Company.”

“What secrets are you referring to?” Gimli removed the pipe from his mouth and tilted his head.

“Yes, what secrets? What are you talking about?” Boromir placed his full attention on Gandalf.

Aragorn asked, “This has bearing on the urgency you spoke of earlier?”

Gandalf nodded. “We are all aware that something has been amiss for some time now, Pippin’s odd behavior, the eerie whispering and touch felt by Legolas on watch that one night, the flaring of tempers between the hobbits, the unusual ability of Merry and Pippin to slip by Gimli on watch. A general feeling of unease amongst us all.”

Heads nodded in agreement.

“Following a conversation with Legolas earlier I have come to the conclusion that there is a strong possibility that Pippin is in possession of some small Stones which are pieces of ancient palantíri lost at sea many years ago. If this is indeed true, these Stones are seeking to reunite. I believe they are also affecting our passions and our tempers. However, who or what the force is which drives them is unknown to me still.”

“What? Certainly that cannot be so.” Boromir leaned forward in disbelief. 

“I wish I could agree.” Gandalf sighed. “There have been signs all along, for some weeks now, that something was not as it should be, but I have been quite unable to put it together before now. Legolas has some important information that he had not revealed out of a misguided concern for Pippin’s well-being.” Gandalf smiled gently at Legolas. “You did not do it out of malice, my friend. You were actually being manipulated by Pippin, who in turn was being manipulated by the power of the Stones.”

“Are you saying that neither of them had a choice in their actions, Gandalf?”

The wizard sighed. “No Aragorn, I am not saying that. I am saying their choices may have been influenced by something outside themselves. Legolas, if you would kindly explain what you have observed.”

The Elf was quiet for a moment before he lifted his gaze to his companions and unburdened his heart at last. “For more than a week now I have been aware that Pippin has been hearing voices. I have observed him playing about in the water on numerous occasions as if seeking something. The day I followed him into the woods while Aragorn and Frodo were having words was the first time I observed these actions. Pippin freely admitted to me what he had been hearing. He was very puzzled by it but did not seem frightened. Or, so he said. He begged me not to tell anyone. I foolishly agreed, however with the warning that I might need to reveal it later. Pippin agreed and no more was said. His actions after that time led me to believe it was continuing and perhaps worsening.”

“I believe that being trapped here increased his unease,” Aragorn added. “Based on what you told me earlier, Legolas, Pippin’s reaction to your attempt to have him share what was happening grew worse during our first night here.”

“Indeed, it is even quite possible that Pippin found additional Stones within the cave waters,” Gandalf said.

Boromir’s head shot up. “I recall just such an incident!” All eyes turned his way. “When we were seeking fish our first night here I observed Pippin removing something from the water. I happened to look over to see what he and the others were doing. He had wandered away from Merry and Frodo and appeared to be brooding after having had some words with his cousins. I recall he suddenly thrust his hand into the water and removed something bright. His grin of delight was of such contrast to his earlier mood I thought he had found some treasure that had lifted his dark mood. He placed whatever it was in his pocket rather quickly.”

“A treasure indeed,” Gandalf snorted. “I am not surprised that he wished no one to see it.”

“I thought it to be one of those cave pearls we have seen in the waters here,” Boromir said.

“And you believe this is why the lad has been as moody as a she-warg in heat, eh?”

Legolas grimaced at the dwarf’s coarse remark. “I see nothing to jest about, Gimli.” 

“Well, I’m not meaning to offend anyone’s delicate feelings here, laddie.”

“There is no offence taken,” Legolas said. He pointedly ignored the dwarf and turned his attention back to the wizard.

“Nevertheless. We do have quite the problem on our hands. The Stones must be removed from Pippin’s keeping. He will not want us to take them.” Gandalf shook his head. “He is being used to bring together as many portions as possible. Pippin will be very much under the Stones’ influence by now and he will not give them up lightly. He may even be losing touch with what is real and what is not, by now.”

“But just who is directing the force through the palantír? And what of Merry’s part in this? Do you believe he realised Pippin had something he should not?” Boromir asked. “Or, could Pippin have had some sort of control over his cousin?”

Gandalf thought for a moment. “I do not know what forces may be at fault. And no, I believe that Merry may have seen Pippin slipping away and gone after him. As for whatever has befallen them, I do not know.”

The group fell quiet, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Aragorn went to check on Frodo. Their soft voices carried to the others and before long Aragorn returned to their circle. “He is doing well.” 

“We will find them, will we not?” Boromir asked as he tossed a twig into the fire.

“Yes, we will find them,” Gandalf reassured him.

Aragorn nodded. “Despite our earlier panic I know those two are quite resourceful. And whatever Pippin is up to, I feel his cousin is not far behind and will see to his safety ere we find them.”

“Do you really believe that?” Sam looked up; the silent plea in his eyes was almost painful to see.

“I have to believe that. It is the hope that keeps driving me,” Aragorn said.

“I could not bear it if anything were to befall them,” Boromir added in a quiet voice.

“Nor I.” Aragorn placed an arm around Sam’s shoulders and looked down into the earnest eyes.

“We have to find them, Strider.”

Aragorn tipped his head in a solemn nod. “We will, Sam.”

 

***

Cold. So cold. So. . .lost. . . Emptiness unlike anything his heart had ever known engulfed him.  
Limping on his injured leg he tripped and stumbled downward through the oppressive darkness, still following the distant sound of weeping. The sound echoed throughout the chambers of the cavern he had tumbled into; the warmth from the Stone he clutched between his fingers sustained him and urged him on.  
The voice crowding his mind pushed him forward. Somewhere in the distance he heard maniacal laughter. Merry knew he was falling into a trap but his will alone was not enough to stop it. . .

***

No matter how much he wept, no matter how ardent his plea for help, he was alone. All by himself, but with a multitude of voices swirling about in his mind, driving him slowly into madness. He knew his pain no longer. He was aware that he had fallen, and a great distance at that, but that was all. He did not feel the great purple bruises that blossomed on his body. He no longer knew he was cold.

The wailing voice was never ending. They were at last, one. His legs moved because she controlled them. His eyes saw because she looked through them. One small part of his awareness remained his alone. Fear; It was his constant companion. He knew another still pursued him yet he had forgotten if it was friend or foe. He struggled to remember but it was a futile task. He battled with her will, wishing nothing more fervently than to turn and rush back to the safety of the light and warmth he had abandoned. But rather than retreating he was compelled to wander further into the great blackness, into the treacherous twilight zone of the cavern’s deepest and most secret place. Pippin clutched the Stones between both hands and stumbled on. . .


	10. More Than One Companion

“More Than One Companion”

 

Frodo stared upward, idly watching a pale spider create an intricate web with which to capture its dinner. I can understand how his prey must feel: trapped - and used, he sighed, and in a great deal of trouble. He turned on his side and curled up into a ball, willing the dawn to show itself soon. Not that we can even tell for certain when it is dawn. Not here. He attempted to fall asleep once more, however, sleep eluded him. With a sigh he flipped over onto his back again and placed his arms beneath his head, resuming his morose contemplation of the spider. Perhaps I’ve become too accustomed to being drugged in order to sleep. That is most likely why I cannot. Frodo shifted restlessly beneath his blanket, his disquiet causing Sam to stir nearby. Frodo held his breath not wishing to disturb his friend’s rest. Dear Sam! Always looking out for me.

Frodo considered the events of the previous day. Night? He wasn’t sure any longer nor did it seem to matter. He was angry with Aragorn for drugging him and for preventing him from searching for his cousins. He was also angry with Gandalf, for not taking his side and helping him when he wanted to continue searching while the others explored the lower caverns. He was even angry with Sam, for getting himself into trouble on his behalf. But most of all he was angry with himself for failing to protect his younger cousins, and for allowing them to accompany him on this treacherous journey in the first place. He did not know how to set things right. He feared it was not even possible.

Sam stirred and awoke. Staring into the darkness he groaned as he shifted on the hard ground, trying to find a comfortable position. Never did sleep well on the ground, he thought with a grimace. Sam lay fretting, wondering if Mr. Frodo would be having another angry discussion with Strider. It seemed to Sam that Strider had become even sterner since they had been trapped here. Sam started, hearing whispering. The watch must be changing and he wondered who was next to stand guard. Listening more closely he heard Gandalf and Boromir speaking softly.

Unable to fall asleep again Sam spent the remainder of the night alternately worrying over Mr. Frodo and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin. Tomorrow would be another difficult day for certain.

***

“We will form another search team and go back over the area we abandoned yesterday when we found Frodo. Spreading out in an ever larger curve we will circle the rock formations near that area in pairs.” Aragorn prepared his pack while he spoke. “If we do not have any success then I propose we separate and explore the much further recesses of the caverns individually in order to cover more ground.”

“I do not care in what manner we search Aragorn, let us simply begin, shall we?” Boromir shook his head, clearly disgusted with any more delay. He shouldered his pack and stalked off.

Aragorn bit back the rebuke that came to mind as he fought for self-control. For some reason, it seemed more difficult to come by with each passing hour. He finally released a quiet sigh before hoisting his own pack and trudging after Boromir. 

Legolas followed them, his inner turmoil as great as that of Boromir, although he appeared dispassionate. His fear that they might not find the missing hobbits nudged him and he pushed the thought away. Legolas thought back to the last conversation he’d had with Pippin. Emotions had been running high. He shook his head as he recalled that their disagreement had nearly caused him to sling the hobbit over his shoulder and carry him to Aragorn. Oh, if only I had followed my own instincts at that time! They would not be missing, perhaps in danger or injured, and I would not be shouldering such a burden. The young hobbit had played him like harp, convincing him to keep quiet for just a bit longer, threatening him with the knowledge of what would happen if Aragorn found out what they had already been keeping from him. Why did I not realise how fell his mood had become? Why did I listen when he was so clearly cozening me? Legolas recalled what Gandalf had told him about the palantíri. Was it true then? Was Pippin actually carrying pieces of one, pieces that sought to be reunified? What does that mean and who could be attempting to control the Seeing Stone? What is the purpose? Ah, I have so many more questions than answers. Would that we all survive this to understand the reasons.

The dwarf tossed him a look of understanding before trotting on ahead. Legolas was uncertain if Gimli was also losing hope or if he was merely as anxious as Boromir was to move on. He pushed aside his own troublesome thoughts and picked up his pace.

Gandalf brought up the rear of their procession after pausing once more to extract a promise from Frodo and Sam that they would stay put.

“Oh, don’t you be worrying none, Mr. Gandalf. I’ll be seeing to it that Mr. Frodo gets more rest. You can mark my word.”

Frodo grimaced and rolled his eyes in long suffering silence. 

Gandalf eyed his small charges a moment longer. “Hmph. See that you do,” he grunted. “I’ll have no sympathy for either one of you if you go running off and get yourselves into still more trouble!” His expression softened. “Do behave yourselves, my lads. We have enough trouble at the moment, as I am sure you will agree. Know that we are doing our best to locate Merry and Pippin.”

“Aye, we will sir,” Sam nodded.

“Yes, Gandalf.” Frodo’s voice was soft.

The two hobbits regarded one another without speaking for several moments after Gandalf left them. Finally, Sam sighed. “You don’t have to be giving me that look, Mr. Frodo. T’would not be doing either one of us any good to ignore Mr. Gandalf, and well you know it.”

Frodo sighed and settled back on his blanket. His thoughts returned to the events of earlier that morning. Speaking with Aragorn had not been easy. Frodo still felt he was right and no amount of debate would change his mind. He placed his hands beneath his head and considered their disagreement. So many angry words had passed his lips. He regretted the heat of their argument, yet he remained incensed over Aragorn’s betrayal of his trust. He had shouted his anger at Aragorn, confronting him for drugging him, refusing to allow him to give the reasons behind his actions. Frodo’s thoughts wandered back over the conversation. They had both spoken without thought; hurtful, useless words that resolved nothing. . .

***

“Frodo, if you will but grant me the chance to explain--”  
“I cannot believe you could be so deceitful! No explanation could excuse such behaviour!”  
“That is an interesting choice of words you have used, as behaviour is exactly what I am talking about.” Frodo crossed his arms over his chest and draw himself defiantly up to full height.  
“What are you hinting at? You are accusing me of an unwillingness to listen, when you are doing exactly the same!”  
“Listen? You have failed to listen as much as you have refused to heed me more than once during the past week. I have ordered nothing save for your own safety. Yet you disobey me with careless abandon whenever it suits you to do so. It is you who are seeking to justify your actions when you know they were wrong. You must not risk yourself so. You must not!” Aragorn reached for Frodo and sank a hand onto his shoulder, forcing Frodo to halt. Frodo did not turn; instead he hissed his reply through gritted teeth.  
“Aragorn, we must find them! I cannot bear to lose them! Can’t you understand that?”  
Aragorn drew a deep breath, his hand remaining in place. “We have not lost them Frodo,” he said. “Merry and Pippin are near. I can feel it. I promise you we will find them.”  
Turning slowly, Frodo studied the Ranger’s face.  
“What is it?” Aragorn eyed him in return.  
Frodo shook his head. “Nothing. It is nothing.”  
“I think it is something.”  
Frodo let out a deep breath and his shoulders slumped in dejection.  
“No. Perhaps we should stop shouting at each other. It does not resolve anything.”

***  
Sam could feel his master’s misery. He was sure that Mr. Frodo had to be thinking of his argument with Strider earlier. Sam reluctantly allowed himself to be drawn back into the memory of what had occurred.

Sam and the others listened in uncomfortable silence. What had started out as a difference of opinion had escalated into a shouting match. Sam watched the shared looks of disbelief, the way his companions shifted uneasily as they waited for the disagreement to end, and how Mr. Gandalf focused so intently on the arguing pair. He had never seen the Ranger or Mr. Frodo so angry and Sam could read the same thoughts in the others’ expressions as he sat huddled on a rock ledge just inside the opening into their alcove. Sam looked up in surprise and confusion when Boromir slipped an arm around his shoulders.“They will work it out, Sam. Fear not, all will indeed be well again,” he whispered.  
“I just don’t understand it. They’ve had words before, but not like this.”  
“I believe there are feelings of guilt on both sides. Those can be very difficult to overcome.”  
Sam nodded, resigned. “Aye. You’re probably right.”  
Their attention was drawn immediately back to the pair by Frodo’s angry curse. Sam sat up straight, alarmed at the note of fury in his friend’s words. Mr. Frodo was stalking away and Strider followed.

***

“I’ve failed them, Sam.”  
Sam was startled from his thoughts when Frodo spoke. He raised his head in surprise. “What? Now, I’m not going to be hearing any of that kind of talk. No one has failed anyone. We’ll find them. Just you wait and see.”  
“Sam,” Frodo turned his sad eyes to his friend’s face and gazed at him intently. “I am so afraid. It has been nearly two days. Anything might have befallen them. Perhaps we will never even know. . .” He dropped his head into his hands and wept.  
Sam was beside him then, comforting his master as he wept. Finally the storm passed and at long last they both slept, but it was a restless unhappy slumber wrought by pure exhaustion. Side by side next to the still flickering light of the low fire they shifted in their sleep.  
They trudged along slowly ahead of him, barely within his sight. He tried to reach them, to call out their names, but he was unable to speak. He continued the struggle. His feet felt heavy, weighted down. He moved as if he was wading through a muddy bog. Something attempted to draw him downward. He could not follow and very soon they would be out of his sight. He must stop them! He knew they were headed into a treacherous place. Tearing the Ring from the chain about his neck he attempted to use its power to retrieve them from harm’s way. The Black Speech poured forth from the circle of gold, its Elvish script glowing as the Ring lay in the heat of his hand. Cruel laughter sprang from it and he wished with all his being to throw it, to pull back his hand and fling it as far away as possible. But he could not let it go. He stared in mute horror as he witnessed their fall into the glowing well of fire that beckoned them. He was too late.

Frodo shot to a sitting position and then to his feet, looking about wildly, part of his awareness still in the dream state. One hand flew to his mouth and he released a cry of anguish. A second later Sam leapt up, his frantic eyes seeking out the source of his friend’s terror.

“Sam!”

“What! What is it Mr. Frodo? What do you see?” Sam turned in a circle trying to look in every direction at one time.

“I saw them!”

“What? Saw who?” 

Frodo paced, unable to calm himself as he peered into the shadows that surrounded them. He stopped at last and stared at Sam before collapsing in a heap at his feet. “I saw them.” He touched his brow and moaned.

“What are you talking about?”

“I had a dream! Pippin and Merry were with me. They were in danger, trying to tell me something, but I couldn’t understand! I couldn’t follow them! Oh Sam, something is horribly wrong, I can feel it!” Frodo forced his breathing to slow with great effort. “Sam, we have to do something. I cannot sit idly by for one moment longer and just wait.” He gasped, recalling a portion of his dream. “The Ring.”

“What about the Ring?”

“I tried to use it. I tried to use its power to stop--”

“Stop what, Mr. Frodo?”

“Sam,” Frodo whispered, “there was another presence. Something else was there, something incredibly strong and evil. It was leading them into danger. I couldn’t stop them! They went into the pool of fire!”

“Fire? What fire?”

“In my dream there was a great pool of flames. It was coming out of one of those odd pools of water that we’ve encountered here. They didn’t realise the danger. Or, they could not stop themselves. Sam, we have to do something now!”

“The others should be back soon. It’s been hours. We can’t just leave!”

“Well, why not? I am growing extremely weary of being told what I may and may not do. And now I sit by whilst my kin are in danger and do nothing?”

“It’s a wonder you’d be even thinking about just going off without telling anyone.” 

“Sam, I don’t care! I cannot bear it any longer. I must do something--”

“Frodo.”

The pair looked around and saw their companions returning and Sam breathed a sigh of relief. Aragorn had spoken his name. Frodo stood and faced the man. “You still have not found them.” His voice trailed away, his raw despair painful to witness.

“No.” Aragorn laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder and pulled an item from his pocket, “however, we did find this.” He held it out and Frodo took it in his hands almost reverently. 

“Pippin’s scarf.” He gazed up into the Ranger’s eyes as his own clouded over with tears.

“We now have at least some vague idea of what direction he headed.”

“And what of Merry?”

“He is more than likely trailing Pippin. While we found no other sign of them that is the most reasonable assumption,” Boromir said as he lowered his pack and settled on an outcropping of rock near the campfire.

“But, then, why are you back? Why are you not following this clue? What made you cease and return to camp?” Frodo’s voice was rising.

“Be calm, young one.” Gandalf drew Frodo next to him. “We wished to let you know, for one thing. We need a brief rest before we begin again.”

“We will concentrate our search on this one small area for the moment. We can leave no rock unturned now that we’re aware we are on the correct path.” Aragorn laid his hand on Frodo’s shoulder. “We may have overlooked some place very small, quite unnoticeable before. We found Pippin’s scarf by taking to the lowest regions of the rock tunnels, at times on hands and knees. I’m wondering if perhaps there is another crevasse nearby that has gone undetected.” Aragorn glanced at Gandalf with just a hint of a smile on his tired face.

The wizard rested both hands on his staff and leaned on it, taking in the two upturned faces. “And for the next portion of our search the aid of two hobbits may prove invaluable.” 

Frodo glanced at Sam and then back to the others. “We are to be allowed to help?”

Gandalf nodded, believing Frodo was pleased until he detected the darkening eyes and the mouth that twisted into a scowl. He tilted his head, puzzled at the reaction.  
“At last you feel we have something to contribute to the search? Now you feel we may be useful rather than a weight about your neck?” Frodo practically spat the words at them.

“But, Mr. Frodo! You were just saying that we had to do something, and now we can! You should be happy about that.” Sam attempted to smooth things over.

Aragorn sighed. “Frodo, I did feel it was prudent for you and Sam to remain behind. I will not apologise for that. You suffered a rather nasty bump on the head after all. Do you wish to help, or do you wish to sulk like a child?”

Legolas winced at Aragorn’s words and his heart went out to Frodo in sympathy.

Frodo glared. “What do you think my answer to your question is?” His voice held an edge it seldom had. “Do you believe I would stand idly by when I am at last offered a chance to do what I should have been allowed to do from the very first?”

“I do not know your answer unless you tell me.” Aragorn frowned, a dark cloud of anger descending upon him despite his weariness.

Common sense warred with his desire to hurl another angry accusation at the Ranger. Common sense at last won the struggle and he answered in a subdued tone. “Very well then. Sam and I will join you.”

Aragorn inclined his head in acknowledgement before settling down close to the small fire. An uncomfortable silence ensued as they busied themselves with retrieving small rations of food from their packs, eating in silence.

***

Sam was the first to spy the small crack. They had travelled into the wide chamber just past the place where Frodo and Sam had both fallen. Something caught the gardener’s sharp eyes and he’d bent to inspect the area more closely. “Wait! Come back!” Sam gestured excitedly before falling to his knees to examine it more closely.

“What is it Sam?” Aragorn knelt beside him and felt around the space with one hand. A portion of the loose rock crumbled away at his touch revealing a larger space nestled behind the outcropping. He raised an eyebrow and grinned at the hobbit. “We may have something of interest here. Good work Sam!” He gestured for the others to join him in surrounding the hole with their torches while he carefully poked his own light into the little crevasse. A moment later he came to his feet with a frown.

“It is extremely small and I am unable to enlarge it. It’s certainly not big enough for one of us to fit inside, however entirely possible for a hobbit from the looks of it. And it is a steep drop. I cannot see the bottom.”

Boromir bent to inspect the hole and then his gaze drifted to the Elf’s face. Legolas shook his head at the unspoken question. “Nay, it is too small for me also, or for Gimli.” His attention turned to Sam and Frodo.

“I will go!” Frodo spoke before Sam could open his mouth. “You can lower me with the rope and then--”

Sam interrupted him. “I should be the one to go, Mr. Frodo.”

“How so, Sam?”

“Well, I’m small enough.”

Frodo almost chuckled. “Sam, of the four of us you are the largest. I can see where it is possible for either myself, Merry or especially Pippin to fit inside this crevasse, but not you, my dear friend.”

“Hmph.” Sam crossed his arms. “Now, don’t you worry about hurting my feelings none, Mr. Frodo, just come right out and say what you mean. You think I’m too fat to fit down this here hole, don’t you now?”

Boromir stifled a chuckle and Legolas fought to keep the smile from spreading across his face at Sam’s declaration. Behind them the dwarf’s exclamation very nearly caused them to lose their battle with politeness.

“Fine time it is to be havin’ a debate over the size of one’s middle.”

“Well, perhaps we could dig it out a bit.” Frodo bent to reexamine the hole as Sam eagerly joined him on hands and knees, his indignity forgotten. 

Aragorn held up a hand. “No Frodo, Sam. We shall continue to look for another opening. We know now there is access to another lower cavern here and so there are likely to be other ways in. Everyone keep close to the ground in your search. Come.” A moment later crashing rocks followed by cries of surprise halted them. Aragorn turned and shouted, “Frodo? Legolas?” All that met their ears was the muted shower of stones tumbling into the faraway darkness of the hole he had thought too small to fit through. It was no longer a gap; the fissure now gaped like the maw of a wolf poised to attack its supper. Aragorn tried, and failed, to suppress a shudder.

***

Another pool lay ahead of him. Merry had encountered many as he journeyed in the deepest passages of the cavern. He paused to study it, resisting the urge to press on. A single spot glittered in the centre of the water. He approached cautiously, curiosity increasing. Underneath the huge shelf of flowstone cascading into the pool a small area shone like a brilliant star in the night sky. He stared at it for a moment longer considering, before thrusting his torch in front of him. He jumped back with a small cry of surprise as the glittering object disappeared. He slowly backed away.

The strange sights and sounds grew in number the further he descended into the darkness. Although he found it frightening, it was at the same time a source of fascination and he could not seem to stop himself from inspecting each odd thing he came upon. Colourful mineral deposits gleamed on the walls of the cavern, and he tasted their bitterness as he passed. A multitude of voices sang and he touched them, plucking each one as if playing the strings of a lyre. A striking musical tone echoed from the pebble he gripped in his hand. Raising it to eye level his mouth fell open in stark wonder He watched the music as it left the stone, forming a swell of discordant notes that marched slowly away from him, like soldiers called out to battle.

Somewhere in this twilight zone of sanity he knew these things were not real, could not be real. And yet, as he reached out to explore them they appeared as natural as his own breathing. He had travelled very deep in his pursuit and lost all track of time and place. The aching in his leg reminded him of the long fall through the black hole and he paused to lean over and rub the feeling back into it. His head shot up as the ripples of obscene laughter assaulted his senses. He smelled fear, and it was as strong and unpleasant as the scent of decay. The fear subsisted with the evil menace at its very ripe core. Shivering, he pressed his hands to either side of his head, yet he could not shut out the laughter. He hurried on his way as quickly as his leg allowed him to move. I’m coming. I swear it. I’m still here, and I will find you, Pippin.

***

She waited as she had for years untold. Silently; alone in the shadows. Meticulously drawing all the missing pieces together, her purpose to complete the reunification. Power. Calling out over the vast reaches of time, locating them miniscule bit, by bit. Leading them home. Like a beacon for the lost singing out her mantra, ‘This way! Flow this way beloved ones, rejoin our souls and rejoice! We are nearly home!’ Coming upon the little one with the pliant mind had been sheer good fortune. His participation had sped up the journey for the final pieces of the great orb. It was so easy to influence this one’s judgment. The young one’s thoughts were amazingly adaptive, completely open to understanding. Yes, entirely cooperative. The insane laughter bounced soundlessly off the stony walls. The Rimstone pool boiled and foamed, overflowing and sending great rivulets of water down its sides in a mockery of that long ago fire in the volcano under the sea; the one that had rent the Seeing Stone’s existence away, and with it, her own. She had become trapped in this loathsome indeterminate state. Now, at last, it was nearly time to emerge from her prison. The laughter began again.

***

Pippin descended into a world of madness. He knew not illusion from truth. Wandering, alone in the dark, where hope had vanished; but it mattered no longer. He was blind and deaf and yet he saw and heard with amazing clarity. He did not know where to turn and no longer cared. Follow the call. It was all that existed for him.


	11. She Watches

“She Watches”

 

She waited impatiently in the gloom. He drew close at long last. He still resisted but it would make no difference. She was almost whole again! Her delight caused the waters of the Rimstone pool to heave and sway much like the ocean current so many ages ago when this shell had rested on the deck of the Elven ship. The palantír darkened to pure black as she recalled the curiosity of the voyagers. Annoying, prodding, chattering beings, all overly interested in it, all wishing to gain a closer view of it. The water settled as she contemplated and the sphere took on an azure tinge. Fools. All of them. Nothing could stop her now. They needn’t try. She would see to their ruin. Right after she collected the final pieces. Particularly the largest stone her puppet gripped so tightly as if sensing its importance. For it was the final key to her freedom. Perhaps she would keep the tiny being, it might prove useful again. Or it might make a good pet. Maniacal laughter erupted from the depths of the pool and the ground around it shook. Far away a howl echoed down the cavern’s tunnels and the great sphere seemed to quiver with her glee. The little one was about to arrive. 

***

Frodo dangled; his hold on the rock shelf was precarious at best. Below him, he could make out soft breaths as Legolas also struggled to maintain a grip on the rocks. Their torch had fallen to the bottom; he could just make out the faint glow. That meant there was still a long distance to go. Frodo feared it was too far.

“Frodo!” Sam cupped his hands to his mouth and stuck his head in the hole. His voice echoed strangely, reverberating off the cavern walls.

“I’m here Sam! I’m all right!”  
“I am as well,” Legolas said.

“Can you make it back up?” Aragorn called to them. He knelt at the edge of the hole, careful not to come too close to where the loose rocks still rained down.

“No, it is too steep. I fear the only way to proceed is downward.” Legolas shifted his weight was he spoke, sending a shower of small rocks past them. He listened, trying to determine the distance to the bottom as they spattered to the floor of the cavern. They could make it, he was almost certain, although not without considerable scrapes and bruises. If fortune were on their side there would be no broken bones. Perhaps he could use his own body to cushion Frodo’s fall.

“Very well. Do what you must,” Aragorn said. He cast a worried glance over his shoulder at the others. Gandalf frowned. Boromir and Gimli traded uneasy looks.  
Legolas spoke softly to his companion. “Frodo. We must attempt to ease ourselves down.”

“I know.” Frodo sounded weary, yet determined. His fingers ached with the effort of clinging to the rock ledge.

“I will go first. Then, try to lower yourself as far as you can using any handholds you can find. When there are no more, you must allow yourself to drop. I will try to lessen your fall if I can.” Legolas began his descent, cautiously picking his way down and sliding the rest of the way. He landed with a thud and sprang back to his feet. “I am unharmed,” he called. “Are you ready?”

Frodo didn’t think he would ever be ready to drop into that black hole, but called out, “Yes, I am coming.” He tried to follow carefully but in his weakened state he managed only a few more handholds before he, too, tumbled downward, landing with a muted thump on top of the Elf.

The others tensed at the sound of tumbling bodies and a shower of rocks, releasing their own exclamations of dismay as a cry of pain echoed from the dark hole.

“Mercy! Are you all right?” Sam called, scrambled towards the edge of the hole to peer into the gloom.

“Careful, Sam.” Aragorn gripped Sam’s arm and gently pulled him back. “We do not need to lose you as well.”

“We made it.” Frodo’s voice drifted from below and Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yes, we have reached the ground and we are relatively sound,” Legolas told them. “We will attempt to rejoin you further along the way.”

“Very well,” Aragorn called, backing away from the crevasse with Sam.

Gandalf gripped Aragorn’s arm. “We must hurry and find an another entrance. Quickly! This way. I believe I may have found a possibility.”

***

The wizard stooped low and gestured impatiently to his companions as he entered the small space. The path became easier as they descended at a steady pace into the dark passages. 

“Have a care! These rocks are incredibly sharp about the edges.” Boromir eased himself around a small outcropping that threatened to block their way. He pointed ahead. “There are more like them, just inside this alcove.” He thrust his torch into the darkness and inspected the walls around them before proceeding.

“Aye, like a knife. Razor sharp, they are! I wouldn’t touch them if I were you, lad.” Gimli pressed himself against the wall in order to avoid the jagged edges. 

Sam nodded. “No need to be telling me that. I’ll surely not be putting my hands near them! I value my fingers.”

The dwarf chuckled. “Good lad. At least you know enough to listen to sound advice.”

“I’ve never seen anything quite like this and I’ve explored many a cavern. They almost appear to have been fashioned this way deliberately.” Aragorn puzzled over the rock formations they passed, pausing every now and again to closely inspect their surroundings.

“A defense of some sort?” Boromir spoke softly, running his fingers lightly over one of the smooth shelves of stone above the pointed rock. Gimli was right. They appeared as sharp as any sword. The sight moved him. He felt oddly reverent. He gazed up as they entered a larger chamber. Great glittering cliffs of mineral flowstone greeted them, reaching downward like giant beings with multiple arms. He felt as if they meant to scoop him up into their jagged fingers for some malicious purpose. The very existence of this place felt foreign, unreal, as though it ought to remain hidden from their eyes. They invaded a hallowed place. His sense of unease increased and he suspected it would grow as they travelled further in.

“Regardless, it is a very difficult place to make haste.” Boromir picked his way carefully around the next shelf of stone that jutted out and stooped to follow the wizard into a smaller corridor to the right. “How do you know which direction to take, Gandalf?” He found the wizard’s lack of hesitation puzzling.

“I am following my nose, Boromir.”

“Ah,” the Gondorian muttered. “Of course.” He followed in silence for a few minutes before exclaiming, “Look, ahead of us! There is another of those great pools. Why, this place is rife with them.”

“Hmm, yes indeed it is.” Gandalf went to the side of the pool and inspected it. He dipped his long fingers into the still water and swirled them about before pointing with his staff. “This way.” They continued along the same narrow path.

“Why not pass through the larger chamber instead? Would that not make a faster passage?” Boromir gestured behind them. “Not to mention a safer one?”

“No, it would not. Trust me please!” Gandalf’s tone was unusually brusque.

“Pardon me. I was only seeking to help.”

Gandalf waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes. Come along now!”

Boromir, feeling properly scolded, darted a look at the amused dwarf before heaving an impatient sigh and following.

“It is this way! Hurry.” Aragorn’s voice carried to them from a distant opening.

Without warning the ground shook beneath their feet throwing them off balance and toppling Sam to his knees. “What was that?” Sam climbed to his feet unsteadily.

"Earthquake?” Boromir suggested.

“Maybe. . .” Gimli leaned down, peering into the tunnel ahead of them.

“Or something else entirely,” Gandalf muttered. The atmosphere had taken on an even more unwelcoming tone. There was something else here, he was certain of it. He was relieved to spy Aragorn headed towards them. A screech from afar riveted their attention on the path ahead. Aragorn bolted in that direction.

“What was that?” Sam cried.

“Aragorn! I would be on your guard for more of these treacherous rocks,” the wizard shouted, easing hastily around another portion of the jagged menace. But the Ranger was already out of sight. Gandalf muttered a mild oath and followed as quickly as he dared. “One might plow one’s fool self into them and suffer a rather unpleasant demise with scarce the warning.”

Boromir darted a look of surprise at Gandalf’s retreating back. It was the first time he had ever heard the wizard utter an oath of any kind and despite their dire circumstances it gave him pause. “Not to mention the great many other ways one might suffer a similar fate in this place. Such as the sudden drop offs into the lower caverns and a multitude of other dangers.” The warrior was continuously amazed by Aragorn’s willingness to do the opposite of what he warned everyone else against. He pulled Sam to his side as they hurried along behind Gandalf. “Regardless of what the Ranger is doing I encourage you to be extra cautious. Agreed?”

“Aye,” Sam puffed as he did his best to keep up. “There’ll be no argument from me in that matter. Boromir, what was that noise?”

“I am not certain. Come, follow me and keep close.”

Sam stayed on the man’s heels as directed. He shivered in the damp air certain beyond a doubt he did not wish to be lost in this forsaken place. He fretted while he stumbled along.

Gimli was close behind them. The dwarf skittered around a deep hole he spied just in time. He released a shaky breath. “Now that would’ve been a considerable tumble!” 

They could hear Aragorn shouting to them from far away. Gandalf cupped his hands to his mouth and called to him. “Aragorn! You must allow the rest of us a moment to join you. Wait where you are!” Faintly they heard his reply in the negative as he continued to move away from them. Gandalf stepped up his pace. “One would think he might at least follow his own advice.”

Aragorn squeezed into a grotto-like enclosure that appeared at first to be a dead end. He searched the area carefully, feeling the walls and the floor with anxious hands, unwilling to believe he had been drawn in the wrong direction so strong was the certainty he was on the right path. Finally he reached up and felt along the upper shelf of rock and a slow smile lit his face. There was indeed another opening although it was obscured in the blackness. He grabbed hold of the edge of the smooth stone and lifted himself up poking his head into the big hole. A blast of cool air greeted him as his torch flickered. 

“This way,” he shouted over his shoulder before climbing the rest of the way up and disappearing into the gap. It was big enough to afford a grown man passage but little else. The way was close and not conducive to a great deal of free movement. It was fortunate the air inside was not stale, but allowed a fresh breeze to circulate through. Aragorn wondered if somewhere within this tunnel lay an opening to the outside world. Regardless, the narrow space would be unwelcome to anyone suffering from a dread of closed places. He took several deep breaths and started on his way. He winced as sharp little stones chewed relentlessly at his knees and hands but pushed the pain to the back of his mind and pressed on. Far behind him he could hear the faint sounds of the others as they caught up with him at last. Reassured, he picked up his pace.

“Come, it is this way.” Gandalf led them into the tiny antechamber and paused. His companions joined him swiftly and turned about in confusion as they became aware of the dead end.

“Now what?” Boromir whirled about twice his eyes narrowing in irritation.

“Why, ‘tis a solid wall of rock, it is!” Sam stood back and surveyed the area, hands on hips.

“Nay, ‘tis a false ending,” Gimli reassured him. “Not at all uncommon in caverns. Come, let us begin searching the stone for the opening.” Gimli immediately sank to his knees and felt around the perimeter of the colourful flowstone curtain.

Boromir watched him for a moment and then joined Gandalf, who was already inspecting the upper regions of the wall. Sam followed suit and squatted next to the dwarf to help. Gandalf circled the tiny room hoisting his torch high above his head as he searched. The flame began to flicker and he and he experimented with holding it away from the wall until it stilled. He moved it close again and was rewarded by a wavering flame on the end of the torch. He gestured. “Here! There is air coming through a hole up there. High up in that corner.”

Boromir placed his hand where the wizard indicated and nodded. “Yes, so there is.” He studied the wall below. “There must be a fairly easy way to scale it. Aragorn appears to have accomplished it.”

Gimli clambered up the barrier and climbed into the opening. Pointing his torch directly into the narrow tunnel he inspected it thoughtfully before beckoning to his companions. “Come. It’s solid enough, although there is scarcely any room to move about.” 

“Or to draw a decent breath, to all appearances,” Boromir grumbled.

“At the very least it appears we are beyond those sharp protruding rocks at last.” Gandalf eased himself into the tunnel behind the dwarf.

“Well then, we can indeed be thankful for the smallest of favours.” Boromir said.

“Make haste! Aragorn is far ahead of us by now.” With that, the wizard disappeared into the tunnel.

“After you, Samwise.” Boromir lifted Sam up and deposited him into the hole. 

“Oww! What the plague? That smarts, it does!”

“Whatever is wrong, Master Samwise?” Gimli called back to him.

“Blasted little pointed stones there are! All over the bottom of this tunnel.”

“Have a care,” Gandalf called back. 

“Aye, there’s naught to be done for it I expect,” Sam agreed and bravely crawled after the wizard. Boromir drew a deep breath and followed.  
Aragorn emerged from the long passage and lowered himself to the floor of another chamber. Reaching for his torch he swept it about in a wide arc inspecting the immediate area, and then swayed back and forth when a sudden tremble shook the earth beneath his feet. Flailing his arms about he caught hold of an outcropping to steady him while the ground continued to shake. Aragorn cried out in surprise when the sharp rock pierced his skin.

Inspecting the palm of his hand he found it bloody. Aragorn peered at the object that did the damage and raised his brow in astonishment as his gaze trailed upward. The same kind of sharply fashioned spears they had encountered earlier covered the walls and jutted out, nearly obscuring the passageway into the far chambers. Another tunnel led in the opposite direction and he felt the cool air rushing in to meet his clammy skin. Aragorn drew a deep breath in appreciation of the fresh air. He swiped a grimy hand across his brow. The ground shook again and he held his breath until the rumbling stopped. If the cavern walls began collapsing they would be trapped here permanently. He heard the others approaching and called out. “Make haste! There is another passage nearby, but I fear our path lies in this direction.” He indicated the half blocked corridor to his right. “At least the ground has ceased to shake.”

A grunt echoed from the tunnel and a moment later the squat dwarf’s face emerged, the rest of his bulk following as he tumbled out of the hole.

“Aye, so it has.” Gimli joined Aragorn and swept his light along the far wall, raising his brow. “The way is filled with the same sharp stone.” He stared at the sight in wonder. “Why, I’ve never seen the like of it! And I’ve spent my whole life exploring underground chambers.” He touched one of the odd rocks almost reverently.  
Aragorn was absorbed in his inspection of the walls in the small chamber. “I hear water flowing nearby.” He tilted his head, listening closely. “A great deal of it.”

Gandalf eased himself out of the tunnel next, with Samwise in tow. “Rushing water you say? Possibly a large river then.”

“And a large waterfall as well,” Aragorn said. “It is striking the rocks below with great vigour.”

As soon as he straightened, Sam immediately began plucking the gravelly stone from his bleeding palms, grimacing as he dug a particularly offensive one from the base of his little finger. “Speakin’ of sharp stones, I’ve had my fill of them I have, especially if I need to be crawling around in a right nasty long burrow that’s fair overflowing with them.”

Behind them, Boromir made a more graceful entrance, unfolding his long legs and dropping into the chamber easily.

“These are not natural formations,” Gandalf appraised as he too ran his torch along the span of wall.

“Nay, they are far too uniform to be created by nature. It is obvious they were not randomly placed.” Boromir said as he joined them, brushing his hands on the legs of his breeches. He frowned. “Nor do I believe all those wretched little pieces of gravel came to be in that tunnel on their own.”

“Perhaps not, but they may at least be explained by the presence of water flowing through the passage at one time,” the wizard said. He knelt and poked his torch through to the next chamber following with his head and shoulders. His voice sounded muffled when he called back to them. “We cannot proceed this way.” Gandalf eased his way out and glanced wearily about.

“No? What bars our passage?” Aragorn knelt and stuck his head through the opening. He snorted in disgust and backed out. “It seems you are quite right.”

“What’s wrong? Surely we can all manage to weave our way through there. It’s not that small once we make it past all these twisted barricades.” The dwarf squatted and stuck his head into the gaping hole. He sucked in air. “Well now, I can honestly say I have never seen the like of this either!” Gimli scrambled to his feet shaking his head in dismay just as the ground trembled once more. He grabbed hold of a stalagmite in order to keep his feet.

“Why is the ground shaking so much?” Sam darted a look around, his unease contagious as the rest of them did the same.

Aragorn was already at the opposite wall inspecting the opening. “There is fresh air here,” he gestured for them to follow then ducked into the passage.

“It may be only a quake, Sam,” Boromir tried to sound reassuring. “A trembling of the earth.”

“Well, why haven’t we felt it before today? I have to say I’m not finding it very comforting, coming at this particular time.” He sighed. “Poor Bill. I hope he’s all right. I wish we hadn’t had to leave him behind.”

The man squeezed Sam’s shoulder. “Bill will be fine, Sam. He is a very intelligent animal. Come, let us follow the others, yes?”

“Yes indeed, let us get to getting! Hurry it up now.” Gimli said before heading after and the wizard. No one was anxious to be left behind.

“What was blocking our way?” Boromir called to the dwarf.

Gimli turned, eyes wide. “Why, a great expanse of the cavern floor beneath the tunnel has been covered with many thousands of those sharp pointed rocks! If we tried to lower ourselves there t’would be like landing on a great bed of nails! We’d be skewered like pigs on a spit.”

Sam stared up at his companions in horror. Before he could speak Gandalf intoned, “No Samwise. They did not come this way. Of that I am certain.”

Sam sighed shakily. “If you say so, Mr. Gandalf sir.”

“Come then, keep up, my lads.”

Boromir stepped up his pace, nudging Sam along in front of him. 

***

Frodo and Legolas inched their way through the small passageway into a larger chamber. Somewhere nearby, water flowed and they tracked the sound until they came upon a delicate waterfall trickling through the rocks.

Frodo bent, grateful for the cool water, and splashed some of it on his face, then took a long drink from the stream higher above his head. He paused, lightheaded as he arose from his knees, and wavered for a moment. The Elf laid a gentle hand upon his shoulder.

“We must keep moving,” Frodo said, his voice raspy from the thick air and rock dust. He’d not let on to anyone he still felt poorly. Frodo peered into the darkness ahead, desperate to choose the correct path. He exchanged a look with Legolas. The Elf gave a nod of agreement and Frodo, allowing his instincts to guide him, chose the corridor to their left.

After a lengthy trudge they emerged from the long corridor at last. Frodo wiped the damp chill from his brow with the sleeve of his shirt and paused to take in his surroundings. As he turned his head swam with dizziness and he wavered. Legolas reached out to steady him. “Are you well?”

Frodo took a deep breath and exhaled quickly. He nodded, again swiping at his forehead with his sleeve before continuing on the way. The air felt as still as the grave, the light from his torch flickered unevenly causing bizarre patterns to form on the walls beside him. His sense of unease increased with each step. Something prickled at the back of his neck and he swatted at the air nervously, startling when he heard an eerie echoing sound farther down the corridor. He paused, heart pounding in his ears. It sounded like a voice and yet somehow it was not. Frodo touched his ear lightly, unsure if he could trust his senses. It almost seemed that. . .impossible. . .the sound felt as if it came from inside his head. He leaned toward the dark tunnel listening intently, half expecting to see some horrible spectre burst forth from the shadows.

Legolas also paused, watching the Ringbearer closely; Frodo’s tension pressed on him like a second skin, intimately enveloping him, causing Legolas to gasp for breath in surprised alarm. The voice, so imperceptible at first he was certain he imagined it, crept into his mind. Its caress was at the same time soothing and dreadful. Another trick of the palantír’s host? He seemed to recognise it. Legolas gazed into the dimness, his eyes unfocused as he listened intently to. . .what was it? Not words, nor a melody. A voice, yes, but one like no other. Familiar, and yet not.

Frodo tilted his head in wonder, feeling suddenly as if he were eavesdropping on a conversation. Familiar voices. Pippin? Merry? He squinted hard into the dark. Yes. . .it was. But how was this possible? One voice gradually emerged as stronger than the first and seemed closer, yet continued to move away. It was Merry. He was certain now. Frodo strained his ears until the very act of listening was painful. At last he quirked the corner of his mouth in a little smile. He detected his youngest cousin’s presence at last. His relief was short lived. Pippin was in pain, but it was a different kind of distress than the waves of physical woe he felt from Merry. This pain was disturbing and exceedingly strong. Frodo teetered and almost fell as it crashed into him like a great wave and he absorbed his cousin’s anguish. Pippin’s torment was tremendous; of this he had no doubt. He shook himself out of his mesmerized state, his mind clearing. He glanced at Legolas and with a nod, his pace quickened with purpose.

“It’s Merry,” Frodo said as he pushed ahead. “I can hear him.” Frodo touched his temple. “I know it sounds hard to believe, but I can hear him inside my head. I hear Pippin also, but Merry’s voice is stronger. I’m not certain why. I would have hoped they were together.”

“Yes. I hear Merry as well. Perhaps he is close by. I do not, however, perceive Pippin.” Legolas paused before adding, “And there is something else here.” 

Frodo tensed, but kept walking, picking his way carefully through the uneven terrain. He could sense the ‘something else’ Legolas spoke of even more strongly than his cousins’ voices. He knew it also watched them. 

***

“Look!” 

“What is it Sam?” Boromir strained his eyes in the direction the hobbit pointed but detected nothing. Sam sprinted ahead, impatient to inspect the light he was certain he’d glimpsed.

“Samwise!”

Sam halted and turned his head. He hopped restlessly from foot to foot and Boromir hid a smile thinking how much it reminded him of Pippin’s antics. His smile faded as he was reminded of the grave danger the hobbits were in.

“I saw something Mr. Gandalf! I know I did, I’m certain of it!”

“Of that I have no doubt, young sir,” the wizard reached him and placed an arm around his shoulders. “For I also saw the flickering light.” He smiled gently at the hobbit. “However, we must still proceed with care.”

“Gandalf? I saw no light ahead,” Boromir shook his head, bewildered.

Gimli shook his head. “Nor did I.”

“Gandalf and Sam are quite right. There was a faint glimmer that was visible for only a moment,” Aragorn said over his shoulder. He had quickened his pace and was already a fair distance away.

The wizard sighed in irritation and picked up his own pace. “Sam, please watch your step. Boromir, do look after him! We must hurry before Aragorn winds up far ahead of us once more.” 

They trotted along as fast as possible for the conditions with Gandalf muttering to himself every now and again, the flame from their torches casting eerie shadows on the cavern walls.

***

The world had changed. His eyes seemed to look through a dark glass. Everything was blurry, faded. What was real? Was he? Was he alive? Where was he? Who was he? He was one; a single hobbit now rather than a tangled cluster of raw minds all clamoring for attention. He wandered in a dark void that seemed endless, still clutching the small Stones to his breast, seeking. . .always seeking. . .what was happening to him? He could not remember. He felt his cousin’s presence. Merry was real, he was here. Of this he was convinced. But it was the only thing he was certain of. Everything else was dim, a blur in time. He wanted to cry out but when he opened his mouth no sound came forth. He stumbled forth, searching, but for what he did not know. He spied a faraway glow that was not quite a light and headed towards it. 

***

Where was Pippin? He had lost him again! Merry knew he was here in the dark with him, but where? He turned in a circle but saw nothing but varying shades of gray. The walls ahead glowed eerily. Merry strained to see in the gloom. Even with the aid of his torch he could not tell what lay ahead. More of the glittering stone? Wearily he pressed on, his injured leg screaming for reprieve. He pushed the pain into the farthest corner of his mind and continued stumbling through the narrow corridors. The torment suffered by his cousin entered his awareness like water seeping into a sinking boat and his anger increased with every step. He allowed it to strengthen his resolve; embracing his outrage like a shield he staggered forward, bearing it before him.

The darkness had become a living thing, matching the shadow growing in his heart. He inhaled the scent of his own fear, reached out to touch the flickering, odd lights. The cavern came alive with the sound of queer mad laughter. Merry shrank back; something terrible was near. Then, a caress, icy and wet, chilled him, its claw lashing open his cheek, leaving it raw and bleeding. The dank air flowed into his bones and froze him into a solid wall of ice, stifling his cry. The strange light playing about at the far end of the corridor grew stronger as something whispered his name. Icy tendrils of stone reached out to play across his forehead and trickle down his cheek; the voice came again, taunting, scornful, daring him to come forward.

A sudden ear-piercing shriek struck him like a wave. Finding his legs at last, he bolted into the next chamber and tumbled, the short drop taking him by surprise. As he picked himself up from the ground his eyes lit on a sight that chilled him to the core.

***

Frodo and Legolas paused, listening intently. The sheer stillness of this place was unnerving. Frodo tilted his head, certain he had detected footsteps ahead echoing in the dark corridor. They shared a look and the Elf gave a slight nod of his head. He had heard it too.

The great hush seemed overpowering and the longer he listened the more the silence grew, finally enveloping him in a smothering blanket of damp chill, bearing down upon him like a huge wave from the ocean until its oppression became unbearable and he had to move lest he lose his mind. Even though he knew Legolas was by his side, it felt as though he was a great distance off. Frodo shook himself from his reverie and forced his limbs into motion once more. This place fostered a sense of hopelessness, of abandonment too disturbing for him to consider. But he could not allow himself to give in to the despair that threatened his every step. Carrying the Ring was not as harrowing now, as walking in this dread place.

Legolas stood for an instant, as though entranced, and then he forced his reluctant limbs to move, to follow the Ringbearer he was sworn to protect.


	12. The Lost

“The Lost”

 

Pippin struggled to awaken, feeling both the pull of consciousness and the burden of darkness, each beckoning, both strong, opposites compelling him to choose sides. Colours whirled and danced about his eyes and made him giddy. From out of the mad rainbow stream, a voice called to him. He peered closer and realized with a start that faces were forming within the swirling maelstrom, captives in the storm of colour. He drew back in horror although the sight held his attention with morbid fascination. A wounded hand, the stub of its missing finger oozing blood, snaked out and beckoned him closer. Shrinking away, he tried to shriek but no sound came forth. But inside himself he felt the power of his mighty scream reverberating; Shocked, he gave in to his terror and to the absolute darkness, and tumbled ever downward, trapped within an endless cry of pain…

***

Too long, too long…when would this wearisome journey cease? How far had he wandered in this place with no ending? Was it all for naught? Where was here? Who was he? Too much time had passed. In this place of bitter darkness there was no way to measure how long it had been since he had last seen the light. Or recognised himself, his purpose. His beginning, his end, all that he had ever known, was held suspended somewhere, in a place he could not touch, oddly sheltered from this bitter darkness, safe, and yet abandoned by the light. What purpose did this absurdity serve? The shadows of that fateful day when his world had hovered on the terrible precipice of calamity wound in and out of his consciousness, continuing to elude him. He reached out with his mind and tried to touch the shadows, and each time they were whisked away before he could fully remember.

He was rootless, drifting; the thing he sought to destroy hovered always just beyond his grasp, mocking, urging him on, and then squelching him at the last moment. Just as it had the small one now held captive, swallowed by its gaping maw along with his companion.

Yes, it was far too long now; he should rest. It was his right; he had earned it. Yet in truth, not one of his kin knew peace. For a moment he almost remembered. But like the explanation for his wandering, the answer to why he could not cease hovered just outside his reach, tantalizingly close, yet remaining untouchable. There was a purpose to his restless spirit; some reason for his troubled roaming. And now. . .he had known the ground to shake before in this place. . .what was this place?  
He had heard the tormented cries. Their desperation called to him, beseeched him for his help. And now, yet another one hurried towards his doom. Was it too late to save them? But he must save them, and all of the wayward travellers! He must not fail this time. He knew this was so, but did not understand why. The trespassers must escape. His spirit ached with the need to rectify the past, to guard the future. He would not seek respite until it was so. Nay, he could not. He wandered further in the place without time or form. There was only the realm of his uneasy thoughts, searching for a way to destroy the monster that held them all in its grasp.

***

The dream became a nightmare, the nightmare melted into another dream. Always one more vision; he was lost, forsaken, utterly alone, his cries unheeded in the darkness. And still he fell. Oh! The pain! Blindness. It was dark here. Always darkness. Where did they go? Once again he relived the maddeningly slow descent into the great mouth that yearned to consume them alive. Remembered tossing the crucial Stone in Frodo’s direction. The recollection caused him more hurt. Merry! Pippin cries were a silent pounding in his head. 

He fell. . .fell. . .fell. . .careening into a bottomless black hole where there was no light, no warmth, no tomorrow, no yesterday. There was only now, and the world of his dread. He knew what awaited him there. It meant to kill him, but it wanted him to suffer first. Of this he was certain, for the whispers in his mind told him it was so, as the jeering voice of the entity toyed with his sanity like a cat tormenting a mouse.

***

The swirling colours tasted bitter; poison in an acid sea. Merry reached out for them and was repelled by the racket as the shades sang first in brilliant hues of red, then orange, then sapphire blue. Each shade of the spectrum was visited in its entire vivid splendour and he was reminded of a great living rainbow stretching across forever. The sound of it was maddening; he glimpsed the farthest reaches of a truth his mind was unable to fathom, and turned away, overwhelmed. He was drowning in the music of colourful, chattering voices.

He extended his hand and glided it across the dissonant view, then shrank back from the resulting discord as the notes assaulted his sensitive ears. Before he could scream in pain, the music trickled into his mouth, tasting like the sweet clear water of the mountain springs. He smiled, pleased, and yearned for more…until the crazy laughter came again, its sharp voice echoing around him, and he quaked in fright. He remembered. They had been captured. Where was Pippin in this swirling madness? He trembled as the mocking, high-pitched laughter grew louder in his mind, and then plunged him into absolute darkness.

***

No more patience! The little one had betrayed her! His cohorts had interfered. They would die. They’d stolen away the key just as the future was realised! How long she had waited in the dark, waited so patiently for the final member to make her whole. Then, to have it thieved away at the very last! The audacity of the little one, how dare he? The insignificant thing would lament his actions. He would beg for reprieve. And she would enjoy every moment of her betrayer’s suffering. The misshapen sphere trembled with her outrage, its assemblage of garish colours vibrating madly. Fools! She would have the final key, and soon. Summoning all of her limited patience, she drew within and remembered the day of destruction and a new beginning; and the mindless, chattering fools aboard the ship. She laughed, recalling how the Elven commander had discouraged the curiosity of a few of the men who travelled with his crew. They were there to rescue the king, not to seek the wisdom of others in faraway lands. She shivered with glee remembering that statement. How little the foolish Elf had known he had aided her by discouraging their interest.

The sphere grew black as the ink in a writer’s well. Its surface boiled coldly, the antithesis of the heated emotion within its confines as she concentrated. Patience. Focus. As before. Remember. Draw them here. Draw them in, one by one. Deceive them. Use them. And then. . .devour them.  
In the other world, the ground began to shake again.

***  
Pippin approached the entrance into the darkest area of the long tunnel and peered into it. Holding his torch aloft he squinted at the swirling colors at the far end, maddeningly urging him on. He resisted. The pull increased. He tried to take a step backwards but could not move. Woodenly he stumbled ahead a few more steps and paused again, gritting his teeth against the power that carried him closer. He tried digging his heels into the loose rubble of the cave floor summoning every ounce of his resistance. But it only served to halt him temporarily and the being’s ire grew indignant at his stubbornness. Its pull increased tenfold and something reached out like a cold stabbing tendril of ice to caress his face painfully. Pippin recoiled in disgust feeling oddly violated. The cruel laughter echoed around him and he stiffened in complete horror. Stumbling closer he was at last within the same chamber as the thing that had haunted his every thought all these past weeks.  
He stared at the pool in dread and fascination knowing what had whispered his name. What had sung to him in his sleep and coerced him to spurn his companions. The voice beckoned him closer still. Pippin resisted. He felt a fraction of his own mind returning, coming to rescue his reason at last and he breathed a sigh of relief. After so many hours of madness he wondered how this was possible. Yet part of him also sensed his cousins’ closeness and knew it as the source of his sudden comfort.

Anger boiled inside him and spilled over like a waterfall across jagged rocks. Pippin clenched his fists and poured every bit of his strength into resisting. He felt surprise emanating from the entity and then amusement. The laughter started again and rose in pitch and intensity. Pippin’s resentment climbed along with it, a feverish counterpoint to it’s mocking, sneering arrogance. He heard his name echoing from the cavern walls and the sound grew until it reverberated from every corner of the chamber. Pippin covered his ears with both hands and pressed them ever tighter as the mad laughter danced wildly about him. The racket increased until the powerful being wrenched his hands away and made him listen.

Pippin shattered; a thousand little pieces of his mind careening madly about, stinging and hammering his body as he gave up the fight, piercing his fragile wits and stealing his tenuous hold on sanity. He dropped to his knees, his eyes growing wide as they stared into the strange light trailing from the rock pool. His hand crushed the small fragments of ancient stone so tightly blood trickled from between his fingers.

***

“Pippin!”

Merry dragged himself to his feet as fast as he could manage it and half limped, half staggered to his cousin’s side. “Pippin? Are you all right? I’ve been looking for you for hours. Please tell me you’re all right!”

His cousin did not look up. His gaze remained transfixed on the pool, his face still contorted in the odd expression. A strange light spilled from Pippin’s fingers as he clenched his hands and held them outward unmoving. Merry waved his hand in front of Pippin’s unseeing eyes, moaning in fear when he spied the rivulets of blood. Frantically he pried the icy fingers apart, forcing the fingernails from the bloody palms. With a cry he noted the shiny Stones that were identical to the pebble he had found in the blanket, save for only one that was larger than all the rest. Merry pulled the Stone from his own pocket and stared at its warm glowing surface. 

Immediately he felt the pull towards the pool and understood why Pippin’s hands were outstretched. Merry drew his own hand back and turned again to his cousin. The smaller hobbit remained motionless staring straight ahead into. . .what? Merry saw nothing other than the great rock pool but Pippin was captivated by something. Merry was about to shake him when Pippin spoke at last.

“Do you see it? It wants me to come closer you know. I have something it wants.”

Pippin’s queer laughter sent chills up and down Merry’s spine and he rested back on his heels and studied him. This was Pippin and yet somehow it was not. There was another here, Merry was certain of it. He shook his head trying to clear it. What was happening?

“She’s been waiting here for a very long time. She needs me. I helped her. Did you know that?” Pippin turned his dirt-smeared face and fixed his eyes upon his cousin. “I’m helping her get free.” Merry shuddered at the crazed look and shivered anew when his cousin’s sweet voice rose to a panic-stricken wail.

“They’re all inside me!” His voice fell, hushed for the briefest of moments and then he whispered, “I can hear them all. . .but no one speaks.” Pippin’s voice rose in a sudden sharp cry then settled into quiet weeping until his voice went flat and chill. “They are dead,” he intoned. “We’re all dead, but we don’t know it. . . They’re coming for us. They want to come back and they want me to help them. I have to help them but I don’t want to!”

Pippin fell quiet again. Merry stared at him in disbelief. “They’re making me do it,” Pippin said at last. Sudden piercing laughter tore from his small form, bouncing crazily off the cavern walls.

Merry pulled back in horror. That laugh, that half-crazed voice was the same one he’d heard coming from the Stone he carried. He took Pippin by the shoulder and shook him. “Pip. We have to get away from here! Come, get up and let’s go!” Merry tried to tug Pippin to his feet but his cousin did not budge. Merry pulled at his arm again but Pippin’s small body was immovable. It was as if he was attempting to hoist up a great boulder, not a youth. But how could that be? He had lifted Pippin many times with ease. Struggling one more time to raise him to his feet Merry was abruptly snatched up and slammed against the far wall with sadistic force. He lay still for a moment groaning, and then sat up slowly just as Pippin released another scream, this one rising into a keening wail. Merry crawled to his feet. His injured leg screamed for mercy but he barely registered the throbbing pain. He stood wavering, pressing both hands to either side of his head as he tried to shut out the mournful sound. He felt his own mind slipping away in the battle for sanity.

“Merry, help me! Don’t let her get me!”

The terror in his cousin’s voice tore at him. Merry staggered to Pippin’s side even as a foul wind enveloped them both, wedging in between them and pushing him away. Merry struggled fiercely and the laughter came again, a thunderous, hateful resonance that bounced off the chamber walls and ricocheted back at them like a great wave. Pippin was wrenched to his feet and although he obviously struggled against the unseen force his body contorted like his sister’s rag doll in the choking windstorm. Together they resisted as they were pulled towards the pool. As he reached the edge at last Merry stared in both horror and fascination at the great jagged sphere that barely peeked from beneath the water. It not only resembled the Stones they carried, it also pulsated with dark colours and appeared. . .alive. Every ounce of his being told him so and all he desired was to seize Pippin and flee from it.

“Fight! Don’t let it take you any closer! Hold on to me!” Merry was now able to grasp Pippin’s arm and he shouted to be heard above the ever increasing howl of the wind. He knew they were being dragged to certain disaster. Time seemed to stand still while they were held aloft by the bitter, swirling wind, staring down in terror at what awaited them.

An unexpected voice rose against the roaring storm. “Stop! Release them!”

Merry forced his head to turn as he dangled aloft in the great wind tunnel, eyes widening at the welcome sight. Frodo stood near the entrance to the chamber holding out the Ring of gold as if it were a weapon, its Elvish script glowing blood red in the heat emanating from the sphere. Legolas appeared behind him.  
“Frodo, help us!” Merry attempted to reach for his cousin but could not move.

The mad laughter erupted once more, this time bursting directly from the Rimstone pool. Merry and Pippin began to sink into the pool of rock, their descent maddeningly slow. The great misshapen orb glowed brighter and its azure tinge increased, as it seemed to rise and meet them. They thrashed about as much as they were able and their horrified screams hammered Frodo’s ears as the wind howled ever more strongly and the ground beneath his feet rumbled and shook. 

“NO!” Frodo rushed ahead as his cousins disappeared into the gleaming hole, Legolas at his heels to restrain him from going further.

“Frodo!” Pippin managed to loosen one arm and fling something in Frodo’s direction just before he and Merry vanished completely.

Frodo snatched the small projectile from the air and stared at it without comprehension. Understanding finally dawned. It was a large pebble, a piece of the massive Palantír. He swayed and barely kept his footing as the ground began to shake much harder. He clamped his hands over his ears when the maniacal cry erupted again. The crazy laughter melted into a roar of anger this time and the stones around the Rimstone pool imploded and filled its depths. His cousins were lost. Buried alive with the great living sphere. 

The pair fled as the chamber began to collapse.

***

A great silence enveloped him in its soothing arms, its caress as light as the brush of his mother’s lips against his forehead, a fond memory from so very long ago. The darkness comforted him, beckoned with the promise of healing, a cool balm for his aching, troubled mind. It wrapped him in a soft blanket, a barrier against any further hurt or strife. He did not wish to open his eyes, but only to continue laying here soaking up the kindness of the silence and the sweet untroubled aura of peace that surrounded him. Frodo twitched. Unhappily, his blanket of peace felt wet now, and cooler than he would have preferred. Reluctantly he opened an eye and immediately closed it as a great drop of water splattered against his nose.

“Frodo? You are awake?” Having heard him stir, Legolas attempted to locate his companion in the darkness.

“Umph.” Frodo struggled to sit up and look around but quickly realised the darkness was not clearing with the opening of his eyes. He felt around with both hands and located his torch lying extinguished in the water next to him. Stiffening with sudden fear he realised they were alone and lost in this frightful place, and in darkness as black as the most starless night he had ever encountered. He shivered and struggled to resist the urge to whimper. His resolve failed as his memory returned. He had been unable to save his cousins. His shoulders shook with the force of his sobs as he surrendered to stark despair.

Legolas offered him solace. “Frodo, they may yet live. We do not know for certain what has taken them, but we shall certainly continue our search. Do not despair so. You must save your strength so we may continue.” 

Frodo struggled to take a deep breath. The horror he had witnessed had been so like his dream. Over and over against his will the scene replayed in his mind’s eye. He heard the crazy, mindless laughter as he watched them sink past the rocks that surrounded the huge pool of water. He pressed his hands to his ears trying to blot out the terrified screams that echoed in his thoughts. They had begged him to save them. “I’m sorry,” he whispered and knew how pale and empty those words sounded to his own ears.

“Do not apologise,” Legolas told him, mistakenly believing the act of contrition was directed at him. “Are you well enough to travel?”

“But how are we to see where we are going?” Frodo cried. “The torch is ruined and it is so black here we cannot see our hand before our face!” He gestured with his hand. “I think it likely that we--”

Startled by a rough scrape at his ear he pulled his hand away and stared at the large stone he still clutched. Pippin had flung this Stone away. What did it mean? He peered closer at it, astonished. The Stone was glowing! The light grew steadily brighter as he watched, hearing the Elf draw a sharp breath.  
“The Stone emits light,” Legolas observed. “It appears to be growing stronger.”

Frodo studied it and a thought occurred to him. Perhaps its light was sufficient to guide their way? Frodo held the Stone aloft and gazed at their surroundings. The chamber they had fled was entirely blocked now by a great wall of rocks that had fallen when the being, or whatever it was, had caused the ground to tremble and shake. He shivered again thinking his cousins were trapped in there with the evil thing that emitted foul laughter and sought to inflict pain and suffering. His resolve deepened and he got to his feet, staring at the wall of rock. His fingers closed almost absent-mindedly around the Ring he carried on the chain about his neck. He fingered it, pondering his next action. The Ring seemed to whisper to him and he froze. Another thought came to him. Could he possibly use it in some way to help them? Frodo recalled the way he had instinctively held the Ring before him, wielding it like a weapon when he was confronted by the being.

“Shall we try it?” Legolas watched the Ringbearer; Frodo no longer hesitated. He climbed to his feet feeling steadier than he had in hours.

“Yes. It does seem to be glowing more brightly now.”

They crept along the wall together, Frodo holding the Stone in front of him. Its light was dim but bright enough for their purpose, and they walked until they came upon another small opening. Easing themselves through they continued, listening carefully for any sound. How could they find Merry and Pippin? There had to be another way in. The cavern had multiple tunnels and countless twisting turns. They did not stop to consider they might become hopelessly lost.

***

The wizard reached out with his mind as they hurried along, seeking any clue to the whereabouts of the missing. Gandalf was vexed. He’d not felt such a malevolent power in many a year. The energy surrounding this creature reminded him of another demon of the deep, and yet differed in an important way. That beast of the deep was an evil of the shadow world. The creature that pursued them was born of the wickedness of the world of men. “The only difference is the origin of the shadow, and the profundity of its intention,” he muttered.

Aragorn hurried along at Gandalf’s side, his face grim. He glanced at the wizard, but did not inquire of his cryptic statement. Sam followed closely on his heels while further behind Gimli struggled to keep up. No one broke the silence until they had gone a fair distance. At last, the winded dwarf called out to them.  
“Here now, have a care! I’ll not be able to keep up this pace much longer.”

The others slowed and Aragorn turned long enough to notice the panting hobbit and much farther back, a stumbling Gimli. Reluctantly, he stopped.  
“Besides, you were the one always telling us to slow it down lest we fall into yonder dark abyss, Aragorn,” Gimli leaned his hand against a rock and panted for air.  
Sam chuckled in between his own efforts to catch his breath. “Aye, that you did, Strider.”

The Ranger gave them a little smile. “So I did, Sam.” He studied their surroundings, his eyes narrowing as he peered into the gloom. Aragorn leaned forward lifting his torch to better inspect an outcropping of rock a few feet away. He gave a derisive snort. “And it’s well that we did. Once more I am made rudely aware of my folly!”

“What?” Gimli made his way to Aragorn and his eyes widened.

The wizard had already begun inching forward cautiously, with a hand outstretched to inspect the walls ahead. Gandalf held his torch aloft for all to see. The passageway before them was riddled with more of the sharpened stone, this time covering the floor of the caverns as well as walls. The pass narrowed further down the way until the opening disappeared altogether.

Aragorn blew out a harsh breath and shook his head. “It is a trap. We must be getting closer, however we can’t continue in this direction.”

Gimli eyed the rocks and agreed. “Top to bottom, it is. There’s naught even room for a hobbit to crawl through.”

“Then Mr Frodo couldn’t have come this way,” Sam said.

“Nor Merry, or even Pippin,” Boromir added.

Aragorn lifted his torch high turning first to his right, then his left. Clearly aggravated, he gestured back towards the way they had come. “We shall have to go back and take one of the other passages we saw. There does not seem to be any other choice. Come,” he gestured with his free hand and started to lead the way.  
“Och, I’m beginning to feel like a wee creature being led through a labyrinth,” Gimli snorted.

“We are,” muttered Gandalf under his breath.

“Aye, at this rate we’ll be running about these corridors forever and not be getting anywhere a’tall,” Sam muttered. “Far too much time has passed! However are we ever going to find them? That, that thing is after them and it means to harm them, I know it as sure as I know my own name.”

“Samwise, do not despair. We will find them,” Boromir assured him.

“And just who was it that created all these traps and honed all these razor sharp rocks to hinder our way?” Sam’s frustration at the delay was apparent.  
“Hush, Sam,” Boromir said. “I do not know the answer to your question, but fear not, we shall eventually find our way.”

Sam tried to smile but his expression turned into more of a grimace. He nodded, then bowed his head with a sniffle and hurried forward lest the Man’s kind eyes notice his tears.

“Aragorn,” Gandalf spoke quietly into the Ranger’s ear so he would not be overheard, “I believe I may have reasoned out what the power is that lurks here, and its intention, at least in part.”

Aragorn raised an eyebrow in question, as he hurried along beside the wizard. “Mithrandir?”

“There is an ancient legend--”

“You mentioned that earlier.”

“Yes, so I did. It is a story that I have heard told by some of the people of the old civilizations that once lived amongst these mountains. I have been contemplating the tales for some time now. I admit I have been reluctant to bring myself to consider the possibility the legend contained very much truth, if any.” He smiled dourly. “And yet, all tales of the past have at least some basis in truth, in the beginning of their telling at least.”

“Quite true. Tell me, is this the same legend you made mention of before, when we were considering the reasons behind Pippin’s odd behaviour and the growing uneasiness amongst us all?”

Gandalf nodded. “And also, the voice that Legolas was convinced he’d heard.”

Aragorn slowed just slightly while he listened, mulling over the many incidents since leaving the shelter of the woodlands and heading up into the mountains towards the Pass of Caradhras.

“The story apparently emerged sometime after the sinking of the ship carrying two of the palantíri away from Middle-earth. I have heard perhaps a dozen versions of it recited by as many different people over countless years. Of course, stories have a way of gaining some embellishment over a period of time when passing through so many generations. I found the legend curious, and noted many aspects of it changed in the telling.”

“Yes, I imagine it hardly bears a likeness to the original by now.”

“However, a few elements did remain consistent, and they were of course some of the more peculiar ones.”

“That does not surprise me.”

The wizard nodded. “As you may recall, the ship had arrived at last to rescue King Arvedui and his men, and it foundered upon the ice in the Bay of Forochel, and sank. All those aboard were lost. Another palantír fell into the River Anduin during the civil war of the Kin-strife, when the Dome of Stars in Osgiliath was destroyed. Yet, both of these tragedies have similarities in cause.”

“How so? The ship was ruptured on the ice and sank, taking the palantír with it; the other Stone plunged into the Great River. The circumstances were completely different, and many years apart.”

“Were they? Do not be so eager to readily dismiss the similarities, Aragorn. One must look deeper into the accounts. And if part of the legend is in some way true, it could explain many things that have happened along our way, including the voices Peregrin and Legolas heard, and the hobbit’s apparent random finds of the Stones in the waters. And why it chose him, rather than his cousins or Sam, or any other of our company.”

“What are you talking about, Gandalf? And, what do you mean, it chose him?”

“I am referring in part, to the people. To start with, the palantíri were lost in both incidents as a result of battle, although somewhat indirectly in the case of the ship. But there were considerable similarities between both groups of men, with one significant disparity.”

“Yes? And what is that?”

“The Elven ship sent by Cirdan carried a Maia.”

Aragorn stopped in his tracks, nearly causing his companions to collide with him. Gandalf raised a bushy gray eyebrow at the startled Ranger and brushed past him, taking the lead.

***

They moved further into the dark, craggy tunnels of the cavern. The air was growing sticky again. Legolas wondered aloud whether they were nearing a body of water. The Stone continued to provide a soft light. Not much, but enough for them to make their way without stumbling. Frodo paused to wipe the profuse sweat from his brow and squint at their surroundings. A narrow passage opened into a large room, which seemed different than any of the other areas they had visited. But what was it that set it apart? He wrinkled his brow and realised how much his head still pained him. Trying hard to refocus his thoughts and ignore the ache, he entered cautiously Legolas close at his side. Together they began a careful search of the chamber.

There was something Frodo couldn’t quite put a finger on, that made it dissimilar from other areas of the cavern they had visited, and he said so aloud.

“I agree. This place does have a different quality – both to the air and the surrounding stone,” Legolas said as he peered as deeply into the gloom as his eyes could see.

“But there is more,” Frodo insisted. “Just what, I am not certain.” 

He felt his way along as if his sensitive fingers sought an answer from the rocks themselves.

They continued their way about the area, examining the walls, seeking another opening. Frodo tripped over a sharp outcropping of stone and then regained his balance just in time to prevent stumbling into another of the cracks that were so difficult to see with their faded light. Breathing a sigh of relief, he crept around the bend in the wall, slowly, ever vigilant. The atmosphere grew more oppressive and it was more difficult to draw air into his lungs. They hesitated, listening, straining their ears as one; but there was nothing. The chamber was as silent as the grave. Frodo shivered at his analogy, exchanging a look with the Elf. He chuckled nervously, recoiling at the sound ricocheting back to him from the far corners of an antechamber.

“Well, you’d best not do that again, Frodo old lad,” he whispered. He’d thought it would be comforting to hear the sound of his own voice. Instead, it sounded unnatural and threatening. The ache in his head grew along with the tension in his body. He started walking again, massaging his temple while he held out the Stone of light. A sudden racket from the passage to his right made him jump and he dropped the Stone as the ground shifted and rumbled beneath his feet.

“No!” Frodo dropped to his knees and began a frantic search. “What was that?” he muttered as his hands swept across the rocks seeking the Stone as his weary mind raced over the possibilities. Were Aragorn and the others nearing at last? Or, was it Merry and Pippin? “Light, I need the light,” he growled, using his resentment as an anchor for his sanity.

Legolas had also gone to his knees. He searched quickly, efficiently, offering no comment while Frodo gave vent to his frustration.

The darkness was total and Frodo allowed himself the brief indulgence of panic when they did not locate the Stone right away. “I need the light!” he shouted. Balling his hands into fists he stood and raised them high, shaking them at the unseen enemy. “I will find them! They are not lost! I will! You cannot have them!”

“Frodo, do not despair. It is here and we will locate the Stone shortly,” Legolas quietly told him. “It will do you more harm than good if you let go of your sensibilities.”  
Frodo nodded with a sigh, although the Elf could not see him, Legolas sensed the change. He resumed the search with renewed urgency, easing along the perimeter of the wall. They stopped just short of creeping out onto a ledge of smooth stone that had at first appeared innocent enough. 

“Stop!” Legolas reached back with one arm to prevent Frodo from going any further. They listened as some loose rock spilled into a sharp drop between a crevasse in the stone. Shaking like a leaf, Frodo dropped back onto his heels. Legolas drew a deep breath to calm himself. Turning slightly, Frodo spied the Stone at last, nestled innocently inside a crack of rock, its pale glow beckoning. With a cry of relief he pounced on it, falling back against the ledge, laughing aloud. This time he didn’t react to the rumbling sounds of his voice as it was thrown back at him. “Thank you,” he breathed and scrambled to unsteady feet.

They had not taken more than a few steps when they felt a dank breeze wafting up from below. Another passage. Carefully, they crept closer to the swirling air to discover they stood at the top of a staircase that had obviously been hewn into the stone by the hands of those whose time had come and gone many years before. It was obvious this was an ancient place, untouched by eyes from the outside world for ages. This had been a home once upon a time; now it was a tomb. 

Another wave of lightheadedness threatened. Frodo clutched at the wall, afraid he might tumble down into the depths that beckoned him. Legolas drew him carefully back from the edge. They could see the long stairway vanished into the nether regions of the caverns below.

Frodo stared into the abyss attempting to summon his courage. He was certain they must proceed in this direction. Frodo recoiled when the sound of laughter met his ears. He looked quickly at the calm face of the Elf and felt encouraged. The creature was mocking them, perhaps daring them to learn more? Frodo straightened his shoulders. “Very well,” he said to the darkness. “I accept your challenge.” He spoke with more confidence than he actually felt.

Clutching the Light Stone in shaky, sweaty hands Frodo held it out again, beginning the descent. The pair made their way down the long stairway, pausing once to look around as Frodo swept the Stone about. All was still. Too still. They reached the bottom after several minutes and entered a large chamber through a narrow entryway.

Frodo gave a cry of surprise, sprawling against a wall as the room came alive. But the inhabitants paid them no mind. Gradually Frodo recognised the scene for what it was. A vision of the past, not real, these were the shades of those who had existed here long ago.

He felt himself floating upward as he was drawn into their world. Frodo studied his transparent hands in surprise, and then looked down upon his shimmering form; he was one with them in spirit. All around him the voices of the long dead conversed in soundless whispers. They did not speak aloud, but he perceived their voices, long silenced, in his mind. He tilted his head, fascinated, and listened to their story, sensing first their surprise, and then their dismay when the being had revealed itself and made its intentions clear. By then, it had been too late. Their trust had been the downfall of their society.

He understood at last; this place had been their dwelling. That was what set it apart from the rest of the caverns. And they had perished here, in the darkness, fighting the same creature, so very long ago. And the same would happen to him, and his fellow travellers, unless he was able to prevent it.

The vision shifted and Frodo beheld a great battle. The people fought an unseen enemy, but their valor had been futile. He spied the palantír in the background, animated as if with a will of its own, brilliant with swirling, burning colours. Its misshapen skin bore more resemblance to a corrupted horror of nature than the magnificent Seeing Stone it once was. Though very large, it was smaller than the one he had glimpsed as it drew his cousins into its glowing depths. He was uncertain if the orb was in the process of helping or harming the warriors. What part did it play in their confrontation?

Ever so slowly, the vision faded. Frodo gasped and felt the cold moisture of the cavern wall dampen his shirt as he emerged from his reverie feeling spent. The vision had depleted him. His trembling legs weak beneath him, he sank to the rocky floor and leaned back, exhaling his breath as a sigh. Drawing in several deep breaths, he concentrated on gathering his strength. A few minutes later he rose and carefully inched his way down the steps holding the Light Stone before him. Merry and Pippin were here somewhere, huddled in the darkness, with an angry creature that sought to destroy them all. He refused to believe they were lost to him.


End file.
